


Crossroads

by riptheh



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, F/M, Magicatra AU, slowburn romance, there's too much stuff to tag but like. a lot happens, this is basically the au if catra becomes the magicat au of she ra and adora becomes evil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riptheh/pseuds/riptheh
Summary: On that fateful trip into the Whispering Woods, it's Catra who falls off the skiff. Catra who finds a mask that grants her a destiny, Catra who becomes a hero, and Adora who becomes her worst enemy.Or basically, I decided to rewrite the entire series as a magicatra au. Yes, the entire series.
Relationships: Adora & Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Catra & Glimmer (She-ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so I've decided to eschew my sanity and try this. It's been brewing in my head for a while, and I've finally decided to get it on the page. I don't know how far I'll go with this, but my goal is to cover the entire series. A few things:
> 
> -I've outlined the entire series and how things would change if Catra found her mask, rather than the sword (yes, the entire series). While I've kept a lot of story beats the same (princess prom, promise, save the cat, etc), things happen very very differently--this is not just a cut and paste catra into the hero role. The plot itself differs wildly from the series itself, in a way that I hope is satisfying and interesting, while still keeping the same main storylines.  
> -I've had to condense majorly, so this isn't going to be a play by play of every episode. I've decided to treat this more as a book series than an episodic thing, which means I'll be focusing more on the overarching storylines rather than episodic stuff.  
> -In this au, I've attempted to meld the First Ones' history in Etheria with the magicats history. All the stuff with Mara still happened, but the magicats were native to Etheria, and had their own history and magic which I will explore here.  
> -chapter length will probably vary wildly as I figure out just how exactly im going to tell this story. bear with me, and thanks in advance for you patience!

Catra was late again.

Actually, in her book, she was right on time. Schedules were the kind of thing she didn’t bother keeping, partially because she chafed under the rule of them, and partially because it was worth seeing the look on Adora’s face when she showed up at exactly the right moment and swiped the win out from under her.

That was the only way, Catra had long since learned, that she would win. Adora was stronger, and the favored cadet. The others didn’t like her, and would never choose her side. That meant that if she wanted to get anywhere, she would have to fight dirty.

Well. It could hardly be called fighting dirty. Not when the win would be credited to their entire team. 

But the others would know who dealt the final blow, and that was what Catra savored.

And it was almost her moment. Settled in the rafters, high above the cadets and the bots meant to simulate princesses, she could just make out Adora’s blond ponytail bobbing as she kicked and fought her way through bot after bot, snarling like she meant it.

Because Adora always meant it. That was one of the things Catra liked best about her. Whether it was life or death, or something as inconsequential as shining her boots, Adora threw herself into the task, and even pushed Catra to do the same (with little success). She was earnest, and kind and far too naive for the war they were fighting.

Which was why, sometimes, Catra couldn’t resist pulling the rug out from under her. Not in a mean way, necessarily. Not because she was bitterly jealous (maybe she was, a little bit), but because competition was the language she knew and the game she played, and Adora played just as hard.

And today, she was going to win.

Her chance came a moment later, with an explosion that shook the entire training room. Adora, in true grandiose fashion, smashed her weapon into the bot and dove back, leaving it crippled, teetering on the edge of a hole, but not quite dead.

Which was exactly the moment Catra chose to walk up, and push it in.

Easy. Finish the job, get the win, and even if Adora did the work, Catra won.

For once. It didn’t happen often, which meant she would take what she could get.

Adora, sprawled halfway across the room, raised her head and shot her a glare. “Catr—AH!”

She cut off in a yelp as the floor opened up beneath her, sending her plummeting. With a giggle, Catra bounded across the room and knelt at the edge.

“Hey, Adora,” she called. “How’s it hanging?”

“Catra,” Adora growled, her brow knitted together in a familiar frown of disapproval. “Are you really going to show up late and let us do all the hard parts? That’s low, even for you.”

Okay, that hurt. But Catra wasn’t about to let it bother her. Instead, she worked her lips into a laugh.

“Oh, you know nothing’s too low for me,” she purred, only to truly crack up at Adora’s glower. “Now c’mon! Here, you look stupid hanging there.”

She extended a hand, and Adora huffed out a breath. Then, grudgingly, she took it.

————

The lockers smelled exactly like the gym—that is to say, rank with sweat and the stench of rubber mats and metal. Catra had always hated the smell—it was too sharp for her sensitive nose—but today, she was too busy teasing Adora to care.

“You should have seen your face!” she exclaimed, flinging one hand over Adora’s shoulder, who only frowned as she put her clothes away. “It was all oh no! Betrayal!”

“Hmmph,” Adora grumbled, but when Catra glanced at her, she caught the edges of a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, c’mon, Catra. We’re senior cadets now. I can’t believe you’re still pulling such childish, immature—is that a mouse?”

“What?” Catra jerked up and spun around, tail bristling. It took her a moment to realize the joke. “Okay, are you ever going to let that go? It was one time!”

“I know, but you know, it’s still—” Adora was laughing, trying hard to smother it and failing. “Still funny—”

“Adora.” 

Immediately, Adora straightened. Catra, not so much. Instead, she sidled up, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as Adora saluted.

“Shadow Weaver,” she responded, whole body held stiff at attention.

Square, Catra thought, with only a hint of fondness. 

“You have done well in your training today,” Shadow Weaver’s smooth tones hissed and roiled, the darkness around her flowing like fog. 

“Oh, thanks!” Without warning, and before Catra could react, Adora grabbed her and pulled her close. “You know, Catra did just as well as—”

“Mmhmm.” Shadow Weaver cut Adora off with a flip of her hand. “I doubt somebody as unmotivated as Catra got through the course without a little extra help. I wouldn’t bother trying to credit her, Adora.”

“Uh—” Adora’s mouth opened and closed, as if she didn’t know where to go from there. Catra wanted to laugh at the sight, even as her stomach twisted with familiar humiliation. Sure, it hurt every time Shadow Weaver stripped her apart with a single cruel phrase, but it hurt even worse when Adora tried to cover for her. 

They both knew she didn’t deserve it.

“Adora, walk with me.” Shadow Weaver beckoned with one hand, already half-turned away. Adora hesitated, turning to Catra, but Catra only swallowed any desire to object and nodded. What would she want to go along with them for, anyway? As if she wanted to spend more time in Shadow Weaver’s company. 

Adora hesitated just a moment longer, clearly caught in indecision, then gave the barest of shrugs and turned. And that was all Catra needed.

Adora always listened to Shadow Weaver anyway. Catra had long since given up trying to convince her otherwise.

—————

Whatever the conversation was, it didn’t take long. Catra ambushed Adora on the way out.

“Hey, what’s that?” She was going for something close to a tackle-hug, just because, but at the glimpse of something shiny in Adora’s hand, she went for that instead. Snatched it, and bounded out of reach before Adora could react, despite her yell.

“Wait—” And then she paused, balanced precariously on a pipe, and stared. “Is this a Force Captain’s badge?”

“Uh…sort of?” 

When Catra spun around, Adora was doing that thing she did when she’d done really well and didn’t want to brag. Palming the back of her neck as color stained her cheeks pale pink. “I sort of…got promoted.”

“What?” For just a second, pure jealousy surged through Catra, before she pushed it away. Because this was good—this was good, right? This was exactly what they’d wanted. 

This was how things were always going to end up, at least. And Catra had long since made her peace with that.

“Adora, this is great!” She bounded forward and took her by the shoulders, maybe a little too hard, but she was too excited to care. Really excited too, now that she’d pushed aside the jealousy and forced herself to focus on the good. “We’re going to see the world! And conquer it! Oh man, I have to blow something up!”

She was purring, she realized a moment later, which was slightly embarrassing—she’d long since outgrown purring, except when Adora dragged it out of her—but she wasn’t going to stop. Now when their entire future was shaping up just the way they’d wanted.

Well, the way Adora had wanted, at least. Catra could deal with that.

But Adora stepped back, her hand once more finding the back of her neck. She looked guilty, way too guilty for the news she had just been given, and that was when it clicked. A moment before she said the words, Catra understood, and her heart plummeted to the ground.

“Shadow Weaver said…you’re not coming.” She winced as she said the words, as if they were painful, but Catra knew that wasn’t true. They couldn’t hurt Adora the way they were hurting her, because it just wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she suffered as much as Adora in this forsaken place? More, even? Hell, she got the worst punishments and she was still here.

She’d never been the golden child, and she’d worked her way up anyway.

“What?” The word slipped numbly from her lips, flat with shock. “Why not?”

“Uh…” Adora shifted her feet, as if she didn’t have an answer, but Catra knew she did. They both did. Adora had always nagged her about her disrespect, and Catra had shoved it off, and now it was biting her in the ass. 

She hated it. But what she hated worse was that Adora knew exactly what the problem was.

“Well, you are kind of disrespectful,” she admitted, and even though Catra saw it coming, it still stung.

“So? Why should I respect her? It’s not like Shadow Weaver has any real power!” That wasn’t true though, and they both knew it. Or at least, Shadow Weaver did have power where it counted.

The power to make them hurt, as much as she wanted.

“Yeah, but—” Adora started, but Catra didn’t even bother waiting for her to finish. She couldn’t take it. Didn’t want to hear another nag, or another preaching about what Catra could do to be like Adora, who was strong, and special, and everything that counted.

Chosen to be Force Captain, while Catra would be thrown to the side. Forever.

“Whatever,” she huffed lowly and then, before Adora could respond, brushed past her and leapt onto a pipe, and then another, until she was far out of reach.

“Catra!” Adora called, but Catra ignored her. “Catra!”

It wasn’t exactly satisfying, to hear her call like she cared, but it helped. Sort of.

—————

Adora found her not half an hour later, and Catra knew most of that time was probably spent finding a grappling hook. Which was typical of Adora. She was never the kind to leave well enough alone, even when Catra wanted her to—which in one way, Catra secretly liked. Whatever Catra did, however far she went, Adora would always come after her.

No matter what.

“Here, take your stupid badge,” Catra muttered as she approached, and flicked the metal piece into the air. Adora caught it easily, and, rather than clipping it to her uniform, shoved it into her pocket. Then, she came up beside Catra and and leaned upon the metal railing, one hand dangling close enough to touch.

Catra eyed it out of the corner of her vision, and wondered what Adora would do if she took it. They used to hold hands a lot when they were children, and even when they were preteens—natural, careless, as if it meant nothing. Sometime around puberty, when handholding took on a different meaning and things began to look more serious, did they stop. Catra was never sure exactly who stopped first, but she didn’t think it was herself.

Rather, it was Adora who started to leave her behind. Who started to train harder, to forfeit fun and games and pranks on Kyle for the promotion she had to keep chasing, who stopped holding hands because it looked childish and weak, who still hung out with Catra, but it was different than before. Like she was living a double life—one for the Horde, and one for Catra.

In her most selfish of moments, in the deepest hours of the night, Catra sometimes wondered what it would be like if they just…left. If she could have Adora for herself, herself and nobody else, and they could just be how they used to. Friends, and….

And friends.

After several moments of silence, Adora sighed, dropping her chin.

“You know, I was kind of hoping you’d be happy for me,” she said. She didn’t look at Catra, but rather, gazed out across the landscape.

“I am,” Catra lied—and in truth, it wasn’t entirely a lie. She’d been happy for Adora, really, truly happy, until she’d realized what that promotion would entail. Until she’d realized that Adora’s double life would become Adore’s single, Catra-less life, and Catra would be…

Alone. With no tether except whatever she built herself.

The thought terrified her.

Adora looked at her then, a tentative grin breaking out across her features. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Catra said, then huffed and looked away. “I mean, whatever. I don’t even care, you know. I just want to get out of this dump before I die of boredom.”

To accentuate, she collapsed across Adora’s arms, leaving Adora to lean back with a laugh snagging on her lips.

“You know, you will someday,” she told her, to which Catra only grunted her doubt.

“Sure,” she said, and shifted her head so as to gaze across the ugly, nearly barren landscape of the Fright Zone. “I wonder what’s out there, anyway.”

Abruptly, with a jingle, a metal shape appeared before her vision. Catra blinked, then blinked again as the metal came into focus.

Keys. To a skiff.

Above her, Adora grinned. “Why don’t we find out?”

—————

“Okay, I take it all back! You are so totally awesome!”

The skiff was literally everything Catra would have dreamed of piloting, if only she’d been allowed. Fast, small and sharp, it cut through the air like a ship over waves, responding easily to Adora’s touch.

Adora’s touch. Because Adora, of course, was in control.

The only thing missing from this ride, Catra decided, was a little chaos.

“Okay, my turn!” With a lunge, she pushed Adora out of the way and went for the controls, ignoring Adora’s yelp of annoyance.

“Hey, save us some fuel to get back!” she called, to which Catra only laughed.

“That is a problem for future Adora and Catra!” she said, and with a laugh, spun the wheel.

“Oh no you don’t—” With a lighthearted huff, Adora lunged for the controls, knocking Catra to the side.

“Hey!”

“No, give me—”

“I want to drive!” 

“No, I stole—”

“Okay, but—”

“Catra, wait!”

At Adora’s cry, Catra’s head jerked up, just in time to catch the wall of wide, twisting trees careening towards them.

“WHOA!” Quickly, she spun the wheel hard, hard enough to send the skiff fishtailing out of control. For a moment, she was afraid she wouldn’t make it—that the skiff would splatter them right across the trees in a gory smear of blood and twisted metal.

But at the last moment, the brakes caught and the skiff skid to a halt, just in front of the trees.

Through which, Catra could only see darkness.

“Whoa.” The word slipped from her lips coated in awe. “Is that…”

“The Whispering Woods.” Beside her, Adora glanced fearfully up at the treetops, towering high above them. “They say—they say that the trees in here move when you aren’t looking. And that no Horde squadron ever sent in has come out.”

And that’s when an idea occurred to Catra, so reckless that it was ridiculous, and so out of line that she knew Adora would never, ever agree.

Which was precisely why she kind of wanted to try it.

“Let’s go in.” She grinned, and before Adora could respond, or indeed, object, slammed on the accelerator. 

“Catra, no!” Adora tried to shout, but it was too late. They were already inside.

“This is cool.” Catra kept one hand on the wheel as she craned her head back to look at the foliage high above.

“This is not cool.” Adora grabbed for the wheel, jostling her to the side. “We should go back. We should really go—”

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Catra pushed her away, tightening her grip on the wheel. In response, the skiff waver slightly.

“Uh, the fact that we’re inside the whispering woods?” Once more, Adora made for the wheel. “Catra, let me—”

“No!” She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t giving in. Maybe because she hated to see Adora be such a goody-two shoes, hated to see her fall back into the role of star cadet, who never saw a shoe she couldn’t shine or a button she couldn’t fix.

Cadet Adora was boring. Catra’s Adora was so much more fun, when Catra could bring her out.

So when Adora lunged for the wheel once more, this time Catra twisted it, sending the skiff skidding through the air. Her foot, as she did so, pressed against the accelerator, and before she could pull back, they both went rocketing off, through the trees and into the shrouded darkness.

“Catra!” Even as Adora fell back against the seats neither of them were using, she sounded annoyed.

“Whoa!” Desperately, Catra tried to regain control of the skiff. “Don’t worry, I got this!”

“You don’t got this!” Once more, Adora grabbed for the wheel, which only send them spinning wildly. “Let me—!”

“No, you always do it!”

“Because you don’t know how to steer!”

“I do t—” And that was when, with no warning and no time to respond, a spare branch knocked Catra cleanly to the side.

No, not to the side. Because the sides of the skiff were too low to block her, too low to do anything but let her fall, so when Catra lost her balance, stumbling backwards, she went right over.

“Catra!” Adora’s frightened scream ripped through the air, and that was the last thing Catra heard before a rush of air filled her ears and nose and mouth, blocking out even her ability to scream, and before she could even through out a hand to break her fall, she hit the ground.

—————

Everything hurt.

That was the first sensation Catra registered. Pain, all over her body, like she was just one enormous bruise. Pain, and one omnipresent thought.

_Shadow Weaver is going to kill me._

That is, if she made it out of the Whispering Woods first. If she could even get up. If she could—

Well. There were a lot of ifs in the equation.

With a groan, Catra raised one hand, just to make sure she could move, then used her other elbow to lever herself into something that resembled a sitting position. Then she blinked and looked around, trying to register her surroundings.

Useless. It was all trees. Trees, and bushes, and funny sounds that made her hair stand on end.

She really had to get out of here.

With another groan, Catra pulled herself achingly to her feet, ignoring the creaks of her joints and the protests of her muscles. Nothing, apparently, was broken, which was good. However, that probably wouldn’t last long if Shadow Weaver had anything to say about it.

Which meant she had to get out of here fast, find Adora, and get back before anybody noticed she was gone—a prospect that was looking increasingly unlikely. 

“Adora?” she called as she made it, wavering, to her feet. “I survived! Annoying, I know. Now you have to keep me around.”

She spun slowly as she talked, trying to get a glimpse of something, anything, that would break the impassable wall of foliage. “Adora? Please tell me you’re nearby. I know you wouldn’t abandon me.”

She wouldn’t, right? Adora was a goody-two-shoes, but not that much of a goody-two-shoes. She cared about Catra, enough to steal her a skiff. Enough to risk her promotion by doing so.

Catra hadn’t even thought about that. Abruptly, her stomach lurched with guilt.

“Adora!” She was still scanning the trees, the bushes, as she talked, taking slow step after slow step. “Adora? Can you—”

And then she trailed off, as something caught her eye.

Not a bush, or a bird, or anything likely to eat her. Probably. Instead it was something small and red, or rather, the corner of something small and red, half-buried in the soft ground.

And it was glowing. 

Okay. Weird.

Cautiously, Catra approached it, circling slightly just in case there was something dangerous about it. It didn’t look dangerous. It looked like a piece of metal, the kind one might use to make armor.

No, actually. It looked like—

A mask.

Catra frowned, and then bent down, pressing her knees into the cool, soft dirt beside the mask. Or whatever it was. It wasn’t the kind of mask to cover one’s whole face—and besides, half of it was covered in dirt. Instead, it looked like the type to fit over one’s forehead; in other words, useless.

Other than the fact that it would probably look really cool.

And that she kind of wanted to touch it. No—scratch that. For reasons she couldn’t quite parse, she _really_ wanted to touch it. 

Which meant she probably shouldn’t. Except Catra was really bad at listening to what she shouldn’t do.

So with an only-slightly trembling finger, she reached out and pressed it to the tip of the mask.

Without warning a feeling akin to electricity surged through her, freezing her in place with a gasp. Her fingers shook, but didn’t leave the mask. They couldn’t; she couldn’t move, could barely breathe, could only kneel, stock-still, as words and images flashed through her head.

_“C’yra—”_

_“The Queen’s lineage—”_

_“You must restore the Magicats—”_

_“Catra—Catra!”_

With a gasp, Catra startled awake, blinking in confusion at the dark treetop high above her head.

And then a warm hand took her shoulder, and a familiar face appeared in her vision.

“Are you alright?” Adora’s brow crinkled in concern, worry flashing through her eyes.

“Huh? I—” She could barely speak. She felt like she’d just awoken from a deep sleep; like the dreams she had just witnessed were more real than the person in front of her.

The dreams. The mask. With a shout, she bolted into a sitting position, sending Adora flying backwards.

“Whoa!” she complained as she fell back into the grass, but Catra wasn’t listening. Instead, she twisted around, searching for the mask.

“Where is it?” She couldn’t see it, but it had to have been there. It couldn’t be fake, not the things she had seen or the voices she had heard. “Where’s the mask?”

“What?” Adora leaned forward again, this time cupping her face and looking deep into her eyes. “Oh no. Did you hit your head? You didn’t get a concussion, did you?”

“What—? No!” Catra pushed her away and turned around, but it was no use. The mask was nowhere in sight. 

But it couldn’t have been a dream. 

“Ok…ay. Sure.” Adora was still eying her like she might have brain damage. “C’mon, though. We gotta get the skiff back before anybody notices.”

“But—” 

“Catra, I’m going to get in trouble.” Adora bit her lip, the crease in her brow now closer to a look Catra recognized. Fear of the hammer falling, fear of her dreams sliding out of reach. Fear of being a failure.

It was this kind of thing that bothered Catra so much, though she’d never say it out loud. She’d lived her whole life as a failure. Surely Adora could take a few minutes.

But Adora had also risked her promotion to bring her out here, and even if some part of her would have been happy to return to the way things were, she knew that she couldn’t do such a thing. Not when Adora really had worked for this her whole life. 

“Yeah, okay.” Reluctantly, Catra climbed to her feet, ignoring the hand Adora held out to her. “You’re right. Don’t want to lose that promotion.”

“Yeah.” Adora smiled, guilty and slightly relieved, but Catra didn’t bother to rise to it. What was the point, anyway? Adora would always put the Horde first. 

But she couldn’t resist one last glance back as they climbed into the skiff, and even though she saw nothing, she couldn’t help but wonder what was out there.

————

Bow was not having the best ‘best friend field trip’ ever.

Actually, it was sliding close to one of the worst, namely because Glimmer’s foul mood had become even fouler as they’d tramped along, and because they were gradually becoming more and more lost.

At least, Bow was pretty sure they were lost. Glimmer kept denying it, but Bow had a feeling she knew it too, and just didn’t want to admit it.

Glimmer didn’t like admitting she was wrong. Bow knew this, and usually didn’t mind, except when they were lost in the middle of the Whispering Woods.

Not to mention, the closer they got—or closer they didn’t get—to the readings, the more Bow was becoming convinced that it wasn’t, as he had originally presumed, First Ones’ tech.

It was something….else.

And he didn’t know how to break that to Glimmer.

“Ugh, c’mon!” Glimmer groaned for what had to be the hundredth time. “I swear, we have to be close. We have to be. We’ve been walking for what, five hours?”

“Two hours,” Bow volunteered, but Glimmer didn’t appear to hear. Instead, she launched into the next question.

“What does your tracker pad say?”

“Uh…” Bow glanced at the readings, which were now very clearly showing non-First Ones’ tech reading. “Nothing new.”

“Hmmm.” Glimmer frowned, but didn’t say anything as they stepped over a large root. “You don’t…you don’t think it’s some kind of false reading or something, do you? Because if I don’t find something to bring my mom—”

“No, definitely not,” Bow said quickly, and smacked the tracker pad with the heel of his hand, which did nothing to make the readings change. “It’s definitely something. Something big. Just not…you know.”

“You know…what?” Glimmer stopped, then turned, suddenly suspicious. “Bow. Know what?”

“Nothing!” Bow said, but a glance to the tracker pad gave him away. Glimmer caught it, and zeroed in.

“Bow.” With one word, she sounded remarkably like her mother—and she looked it too, shifting her weight to one hip as she crossed her arms. “What is it?”

“Uh—” Bow gulped, and glanced to his tracker pad. “Well, I might have been a _little_ mistaken when I said we were tracking First One’s tech. As in, I don’t think it’s First One’s tech.”

_“What?”_ Glimmer shouted, loud enough to rouse a nearby bird. “Are you serious?”

“Hold on, hold on!” Quickly, Bow held up his hands. “That doesn’t mean it’s nothing! It’s definitely something big. Just not First One’s tech big. Different big.”

“Different big?” Glimmer raised one disbelieving eyebrow. “What else could there be besides First One’s tech?”

“I dunno,” Bow began, and would have said more, if he hadn’t been interrupted by a telltale ‘you’re really close’ beep. His eyes drifted to the monitor, and he smiled. “Want to find out?”

————

It was the middle of the night when Catra finally gave up on sleep and slipped away, careful not to rouse Adora.

She knew what she was doing was risky—no way was she going to get Adora caught up in it too. Adora wouldn’t even agree with what she was doing, probably, or she might, but even so, Catra wasn’t going to stick her neck on the line.

Not when her own choice was looking increasingly dumb.

“Alright, Catra,” she said aloud as she tramped through the woods, trying to chase away the phantom sounds strange movements around her. “You’re probably hallucinating. Or something. You hit your head, and now you’re just going to go back to the same spot and find nothing, and that will convince you that Adora’s right. As usual. And then you’re going to go back to the infirmary, and you’re going to check for brain…”

And that was when she looked up, and caught a soft glow of light emanating through the foliage.

“…damage.”

Catra stared. It was the same spot she had fallen, she was sure of it. There was even a flattened bush ten feet away which had cushioned her fall. And there, on the other side of the bushes, she could see the telltale glow of what had to be…

….the mask.

For a moment, Catra just stood there. Then, moving as if in a dream, she stepped forward, into the clearing.

And there it was. Half buried in the dirt, just as she had seen it before, glowing softly as if it was calling to her. In fact, it almost felt like it was, because the longer she stood there, the more she felt the pull; the need to step forward, to pick it up, to claim it as if it were her own.

As if it belonged to her.

Catra stared, then raised one foot to step forward.

“And it’s got to be—here!” With a crash, two people came stumbling through the foliage.

Catra’s eyes darted to them, and she stared. And they stared, all three of them frozen in shock, and for a moment all Catra could think was that she was looking at real, actual princesses, and she was alone.

And then, the shorter one pointed her finger and began to holler. “Horde soldier!”

Catra bristled instinctively, claws unsheathing to attack—but the mask. Her eyes flicked to it—she couldn’t just leave it. Nor could she let them get their hands on it.

So with a snarl, she turned and bounded towards where it lay.

Catra was fast, faster than the other cadets, faster even than Adora, who despite how hard she worked, never managed to beat her times. Still, as she reached the mask, she didn’t expect the princess to suddenly appear right in front of her, and swipe it out from under her nose. 

“Hey!” Catra snarled, then fell back and spun around, only to dodge an arrow from the boy. She ducked again as another came sailing over her head, then caught out of the corner of her eye a sparkle of light.

“Give it back!” She leapt towards the sparkling light, which coalesced into a person just in time for Catra to ram her into the ground. They both went diving into the dirt, and the mask went flying through the air, coming to land several feet away.

“G’off me!” Catra yelled, and shoved the princess away, who only responded by pulling her hair.

“Get away from our tech!” she shouted, only to grunt as Catra elbowed her in the ribs.

“It’s not yours, it’s mine!” With the princess gone, she lunged forward. “I found it first!”

“No you didn’t!” The princess shouted, and leapt for her, but it was too late. Catra dove for the mask, and just as the princess reached her, her fingers brushed the metal.

And she promptly blacked out.

_“C’yra.”_

_With a start, Catra looked up, only to stumble back in surprise._

_“Who are you?” she cried, hair bristling at the shadowy shape before her, but the shadowy shape only gave the impression of a smile. The voice was a woman’s, but beyond that, she was impossible to make out._

_“I am what’s left,” she said, her voice as thin and shadowy as her form. “I am a remnant of the magic that resides in the mask, and of the magicat who once wore it.”_

_“Magi—what?” Catra said, but the form was whispering around her, dissolving into mist. “Wait—who are you? If you’re the mask—what the hell am I supposed to do with it?”_

_“Claim it, C’yra,” the voice whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you. It is your time.”_

_“My time for what?” Catra cried, but the form was fading, the mist turning to dew, and even the blackness around her had begin to dissolve into pure nothingness. “Wait—you have to tell me more! You have to—”_

“Wake up!” 

Catra startled awake, then blinked blearily, and looked up into an angry face and a mass of pink hair. 

“Are you sure it was a good idea to wake her?” Behind the girl—the princess—the boy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, it probably would have been easier to bring her back if she was unconscious.”

“Yes, but we need to find out where she came from!” the girl whispered in a voice that was not at all a whisper. “Bow, she could be a spy sent to scout out the Whispering Woods!”

“I’m not a spy,” Catra growled, even as she tried to move the hands tied behind her back. It was no use—even with her claws unsheathed, she couldn’t reach the ropes. “Also, Bow? An archer? Did you pick that one out yourself?”

“Hey, don’t talk to him like that!” The princess’ face appeared in her vision again, glaring too close for comfort. “You’re our prisoner now, Horde scum. Now get up and march.”

Catra glanced behind herself, at her hands, then up at the princess.

“Could use a little help standing,” she said dryly.

The princess huffed, then grabbed her arm and none-too-gently hoisted her up. As she did, Catra caught sight of the mask clenched in her other hand.

Her heart sunk.

Somehow, even though she’d been right, she’d ended up worse than before. How the hell was she supposed to expect that a princess would show up at the exact place she’d been trying to find? What kind of luck was that supposed to be?

All Catra wanted to do was take the mask, and run back to the Fright Zone, back to Adora, and then they could figure out what happened together. But she was caught—tied up by two enemy soldiers who she could only pray to be as incompetent as they looked, and left emptyhanded.

She had to get back to the Fright Zone. But there was no way she was leaving without that mask. 

The princess huffed and jabbed her in the back, which Catra took as a sign that she was supposed to move. She did with a hiss, which, to her satisfaction, evoked a yelp.

“Do all Horde soldiers do that?” the princess asked, her tone derisive enough for Catra to shoot her a glare. It was the kind of thing people used to say to her when she was younger—poking and prodding the ears and the tail and touching her claws when she didn’t say they could, all because they’d never seen a person like her. Because there were all sorts in the Fright Zone, but nobody like Catra.

“I’m special,” she retorted, allowing a hint of a growl to seep into her tone—enough, apparently, for the princess to fall silent, though when Catra looked back, she caught a strange look shared between her captors.

Whatever. She wasn’t going to let them get to her head. She had bigger things to worry about. Namely, the mask, and her own escape, because people would be wondering where she was.

Or at least, so she hoped. The thought that nobody, save Adora, would care that she was gone was enough to open up a pit in her stomach, one she quickly pushed away.

They would care, right? They had to. She was a captured Horde soldier. They wouldn’t leave her for dead.

At least, so Catra wanted to believe.

—————

Catra was gone, and Adora was trying very hard not to panic.

Catra coming and going wasn’t an oddity in itself; Adora knew that over the years, Catra had found various hiding places from which to wait out punishments and Shadow Weaver’s wrath. However, she always reappeared eventually, usually within a few hours.

It had been a few hours, and Catra was nowhere to be found. 

And worse, nobody seemed to care but her.

“Shadow Weaver, uh, ma’am! Can I talk to you?”

Technically, Adora shouldn’t seeking out Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver was never one to be sought out—she was the one who did the talking, and only when she wanted to. The fact that she hadn’t said a word about Catra’s disappearance only meant that Adora was probably supposed to shut up about it.

But she couldn’t. Catra was her friend—even if Adora weren’t worried sick (which she was), she wasn’t going to let her go that easily.

Shadow Weaver turned, a sneer forming through her mask as Adora approached. Adora swallowed hard, then stopped and snapped to attention.

“Ma’am, I can’t find Catra,” she said after a swift salute. She wasn’t going to bother mincing words, not when every moment that passed was another moment that Catra was missing, potentially lost. “I think she’s—”

“Gone.” Shadow Weaver waved a flippant hand, already half-turning as if to leave. “Yes, I am aware. No doubt she’s finally decided to desert. I won’t lie and say I never saw it coming. You don’t need to concern yourself with her any longer.”

“But—” Adora gaped, jaw hanging to the floor. For a second, she couldn’t move, stunned into paralysis. “But—Shadow Weaver! We can’t let Catra—”

“We can, and we will.” Shadow Weaver turned, her voice snappish enough to end the argument. “She is of no use to the Horde any longer, Adora. I won’t waste forces on somebody as worthless as she.”

And with that, she turned to go, the shadows sliding along beside her. For a second, Adora only stared after her. Then, she jerked into motion.

“But Shadow Weaver—ma’am!” She reached out, only to immediately think better of the action, and withdrew her hand. It didn’t matter though; at her almost-touch, Shadow Weaver paused, then turned. 

“Please, ma’am.” Adora rocked back onto her heels, her hands stiff at her sides. “I—even if she’s not a top soldier, she has information about the Horde. If the princesses get their hands on her—”

“We’ll be rid of a problem I should have dealt with long ago.” But still, she studied Adora, her gaze not nearly as hard as her words. Instead, she appeared to be…considering. “Hmm. And why do you care so much, Adora? Don’t you have bigger things to worry about?”

“Uh—” Adora opened her mouth, then shut it again, trying to think of an answer. “Yes, but—I can’t lose a soldier, ma’am. Not on my first day.”

“Hmmm.” Shadow Weaver regarded her for a long moment, with a gaze so scorching it seemed to burn right through Adora’s uniform jacket. She stood there, sweltering under it, and forced herself to stand straight.

And then at last, Shadow Weaver gave another dismissive wave of her hand. “Fine. You may have one chance to bring her back—and to prove yourself.” Her eyes roamed over Adora, sharp and calculating. “The invasion of Thaymor was due to take place anyway. You may use the mission as an opportunity to scout for Catra’s whereabouts.”

Then she leaned closer, the shadows creeping and slithering around Adora, brushing against her back and her arms. Adora stiffened, and forced herself not to draw away.

“But you have one chance, Adora,” Shadow Weaver said, her tone cold. “One chance, and then—well, it’s time to focus.”

Adora gulped as the shadows retreated, then nodded. “Yes, Shadow Weaver. I won’t let you down.”

—————

“Are we there yet?” Catra called, then paused and rethought her words. “Also, where the hell are you taking me?”

“Nowhere!” the princess spat from high up in a tree. She wasn’t looking at Catra, however, but holding the tracker pad above her head, and glowering as if that would make it work. “Shut up, prisoner!”

Catra huffed, but fell silent. Then, she glanced at the boy—Bow—who to her surprise, gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about her,” he said. “She’s usually much nicer.”

Catra stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was serious. “Are you actually trying to make small talk right now?”

“Uh—” The boy opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Uh, maybe?”

“Ugh.” Catra rolled her eyes. “Spare me, please.”

Beside her, Bow’s mouth curved down in disappointment, but before he could say anything, a cry from the far end of the clearing sent them both spinning around.

“Glimmer!” Before Catra could protest, or indeed, react, Bow grabbed her tied hands and began to drag her along towards the princess’ voice.

“Hey! Get off me!” Catra shouted, but he wasn’t listening. Instead, he only pulled her along as they pushed through the foliage, smashing through branches and leaves until they fell into a—

Village. Only it wasn’t a village any longer. It had been destroyed, or more accurately, demolished with such thoroughness that barely a wall stood standing among the remains of the houses. Catra stared, stunned into silence, if only because she had never seen…this before.

Sure, she knew what war was. She knew what she would see, and the things she would do when she finally went out into the field. But it was different seeing the effects up close.

Sort of uncomfortable.

“Look at this!” Glimmer cried, and spun around, tears in her eyes, to stab a finger at Catra. “Look at what people like you have done to us!”

“What?” Immediately, Catra drew back to her first instinct—defense. “No way that was the Horde!”

It totally was. She knew the effects Horde weapons had, and even now, she could see a piece of a Horde logo sticking out of a demolished house. But at her words, Glimmer only stared, mouth open, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Then, she whirled around and pointed at the very Horde logo Catra was looking at.

“Oh yeah? Then how the hell do you explain that?”

Catra opened her mouth, then shut it again, and had no answer. How was she supposed to answer something like that, anyway? Who was she, the leader of the Horde? She had never personally hurt a princess, even if she knew how to.

She was just part of a system she couldn’t escape. Anybody with half a brain in the Horde knew that. It was only people like Glimmer who wanted to believe that they could so easily turn around and spit on the very home that raised them.

So she scoffed and looked away, if only because she didn’t want to look at those destroyed houses any longer. “Whatever. It’s not as if I did this, anyway.”

“Yeah, but your side did!” Glimmer stepped forward, hands curling into fists. “Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you’re not guilty?”

“Are you seriously going to look at me, your prisoner, and tell me you’re the good ones?” Catra said, leaning forward with a smirk cool enough to hide whatever strange feeling swirled in her stomach. It felt strangely close to guilt, which wasn’t fair, because Catra was right—she _hadn’t_ played a part in this.

She would, one day, but that was what war was, wasn’t it?

“We are the good ones!” Glimmer exclaimed, but the words came out hesitant, as if she were trying to hard to force them. “I mean—we’re only capturing you because—”

“I’m a Horde soldier.” Catra nodded knowingly. “So I’m automatically bad, and—”

“Uh, guys?” Bow cut in.

“And we know you would kill us if given the chance!” Glimmer jabbed a finger at Catra’s chest. “Admit that if you were ordered to fight us, you totally would!”

“Yeah because it’s a _war_ ,” Catra said, and she could feel her hackles raising, her tail flicking back and forth in annoyance. How was she not getting it? “I didn’t choose to end up in the Horde, princess! Not everybody gets magical powers and—”

“Uh, _guys?”_ Bow’s voice, squeaky and high pitched, stopped Catra right in her tracks. She looked up at him, frowning and ready to shoot off an insult at his interruption, only to see that he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking high above her head, to—

Slowly, Catra turned around. And froze.

Because there, towering above them, was what could only be described as an enormous, bug-eyed monster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand we're back! thank you to everybody who showed interest in this idea, I'm really happy you guys like it!! I've really excited to continue, like i said i have a PlanTM. a plan that will probably cover like 300k but like, you know. itll be fun.

For a moment, nobody moved. All Catra could was that it really would be her type of luck, to die a prisoner.

And she hadn’t even gotten her hands on that stupid mask.

Then the creature roared, loud enough to shake the trees, and it jolted the tree of them into action.

“Run!” Glimmer cried, and grabbed Bow, yanking him to the side—and leaving Catra.

“Oh, thanks!” she cried, and dove herself, in the opposite direction. She hit the ground hard and rolled, unable to control her fall with her hands still tied. All she could do as she ate dirt was pray that the creature wasn’t coming for her.

Then she heard another roar, close but unmistakably coming from the opposite direction, and she knew that she was safe.

For now.

“Bow!” 

When Catra looked up at the cry, she caught the flash of an arrow arcing through the air before it bounced uselessly off the creature’s hard exoskeleton. Behind Bow, Glimmer lunged, and in a flash, they both disappeared.

Absolutely great.

As quickly as she could, Catra scrambled to her feet and began to back away, towards the foliage and away from the creature. It was sniffing around now, eying the spot the two had disappeared in what appeared to be slightly angry curiosity—as if it had just been denied a meal. 

The problem was, Catra knew that she would be a perfectly serviceable meal if she didn’t get away in time. 

Before the beast could spot her, she spun around—only for a burst of sparkles to catch her eye. It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing, and then she heard a groan.

Okay. Apparently they hadn’t gone as far as she’d thought.

“Glimmer, wake up!” Catra heard Bow cry, but his voice was drowned out by an enormous roar behind her, so loud that Catra, with her sensitive hearing, cringed in pain. She didn’t have to turn around to figure out what had happened.

She did anyway, and that was when the creature lowered its head and, with a snarl, barreled straight for her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Catra’s eyes widened, and with no recourse left, she did the only thing she could.

She turned tail, and ran.

Bow and an only half-conscious Glimmer looked up as she burst through the foliage, but she didn’t have time to stop.

“Run, you idiots!” she cried—though she wasn’t sure why she bothered. They were her enemy, weren’t they? If anything, them being eaten might allow her to get away.

Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see it.

She ducked again as the creature burst through the foliage, and one quick look behind found Bow and Glimmer hot on her heels. Together they plunged through the woods, breaking branches and stumbling over roots, until at last, they fell into a spacious clearing.

And a moment later, the creature burst through as well.

“We’re never going to get away!” Glimmer cried behind her, but Catra didn’t bother with reassurances. Instead, she spun on her heel, claws out, ready to fight if necessary.

Her hands may be tied, and she might not last long, but if she was going down, she was going down swinging.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Before she could even so much as get a swipe in, a hand grabbed her by the color and jerked her bodily to the ground, just as the creature plowed through the spot she had been standing.

“G’off me!” she cried as the three of them—the hand belonging to Bow—went down in a tangle of limbs at the edge of the clearing. Catra swallowed a mouthful of dirt, and as she spit it out, gagging, a gleam caught her eye—something metal, arcing through the air.

The mask. Knocked from Glimmer’s hands as they’d fallen, it landed with a soft thud several meters from them. Catra stared at it as the creature, grunting and snarling in confusion, shook its head and turned around for another strike.

This was her chance. The other two were useless—they were going to get eaten no matter what. But Catra could get away, and grab the mask in the process. She could survive.

It wasn’t even a decision. She was on her feet before she thought it through, and upon the mask in a matter of seconds, scooping it up with both hands. 

And that was precisely when she realized she should have thought it through. Because at her movement across the clearing, the creature turned, and with an earth-shattering roar, galloped toward her.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no—” This was dumb. This was really, really dumb. She had no room to run, no time to get away, and now she was living, breathing bait, nothing but a useless, glowing, tingling mask in her hands, telling her to—

_“Claim your heritage, C’yra.”_

“What?” Catra glanced down at the mask, which was glowing hotter now, hot enough to burn her hands, and in her ears she could hear the echo of a voice, both distant and familiar, the words egging her on.

_“It is your time.”_

_“Claim your heritage.”_

_“Claim the title of—”_

“Fine!” Catra cried, and because she didn’t know what else to do, and she was going to die anyway, she did the only thing she could think of.

She shoved the mask onto her head.

And in a moment, was transformed.

The effect was instantaneous, and blinding. Power, unexpected and unfamiliar, surged through Catra, strong enough to drive her to her knees though she didn’t fall. Instead, rather than collapsing, she seemed to stand taller, her whole self hardening, her muscles lengthening and shaping like molten lave beneath her skin, though she felt no pain.

And then in an instant, the effect faded, and Catra was…changed.

For a moment she only stood there, stunned into stillness. Everything felt off, and entirely right at the same time; she was taller, taller enough to match Adora’s height, and and her limbs fizzed with energy; even her claws felt longer, sharper, ready to tear. She felt like she could fight for days and never tire.

Before her, the beast skid to a halt. Then, it made a strange, fearful noise, and before she could so much as move, it turned tail and ran.

Catra stared. 

“What the hell—?” She glanced down at herself, caught the gold and red flash of her chestplate, and immediately panicked. “What the hell did you two do to me?!”

“We didn’t do anything to you!” With the beast gone, Glimmer and Bow were climbing to their feet. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know!” Still panicking, Catra scrabbled desperately for the mask, which seemed to hold onto her face with inordinate ease. Almost as if it were magic. “Get this thing off of me!” 

With one last heave, the mask came off and sailed across the clearing, landing with a dull thunk in the soft dirt. Catra fell backwards, cursing as her ankle hit a root, and tried to scramble to her feet, but didn’t make it before Bow and Glimmer tackled her.

“Get down, prisoner!” Glimmer cried out, pushing Catra flat on her back. “C’mon, Bow, grab her feet! We can’t let her use her magic on us!”

“My magic!?” It was only then that Catra realized her hands had come untied, but before she could do anything about it, Glimmer sent a bolt of energy at her chest which drove her into the ground, momentarily stunned. “Are you morons? Clearly you two did something to me!”

“We didn’t do anything to you!” Bow, despite Glimmer’s orders, hadn’t grabbed her feet. Instead, he had turned to scoop up the abandoned mask, which now dangled from his fingertips, held away from his chest as if he worried it might explode. “You were the one who went all glowy and, uh, covered in armor!”

“Because you turned me into a princess!” Catra glared at him. “And if you—” this was directed at Glimmer— “don’t get off me, I’m going to turn you both into—”

Before she could finish, a loud noise came from the trees, not dissimilar to that of the beast they had faced only moments earlier. Instantly, they all froze, Catra’s jaw snapping shut so hard she heard it clack.

“Oh no.” Bow looked like a ghost as he stared at the foliage. “It might—?”

“I don’t know, but we’re getting out of here!” Before Catra nor Bow could respond, Glimmer grabbed for the both of them, and in a flash, they disappeared.

They reappeared moments later, in a spot of forest Catra didn’t recognize, but she wasn’t overly concerned with that. She wasn’t overly concerned with anything actually, not even escape, because in the moment they reappeared, her stomach flipped and her knees gave out beneath her.

“Never—” Each word, growled in agony, came punctuated with a dry heave. “—do that again.”

“Oh, like you’re giving the orders, prisoner!” As she knelt, trying to hack whatever she could of her dinner onto the ground, Glimmer dove for her hands and yanked a strip of what felt like fabric torn from a shirt around them. “Ha! Good luck with another escape attempt!”

“Another?” Internally, Catra cursed—she should have swallowed her nausea and run while she had the chance, never mind that she had no idea where she was. Instead, she had allowed these two idiots the chance to tie her up again, once more proving Shadow Weaver right.

Useless. She was useless.

Well, maybe not useless. The ties weren’t as tight this time, and when Catra flexed her hands, she guessed that with a little maneuvering and luck, she could get them off.

But they still had the mask. And even though part of her never wanted to touch it again, the other part was loathe to leave it behind.

“Hey, princess.” Once her nausea subsided, Catra glanced up, forcing a smirk across her face. Never let them see her fear, nor anything else. It was a lesson she’d learned long ago. “How about we make a deal? You give me the mask, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“What?” Glimmer stared in disbelief. Bow clutched the mask tighter to his chest, as if he’d forgotten the power it possessed. “What, so you can turn around and kill us both?”

Catra scoffed. “Please. I could do that with both hands tied behind me back. Oh—wait.” She cast a look towards her tied hands, then raised an eyebrow at Glimmer. “Want me to try?”

Glimmer glowered, her hands tightening into fists. She sucked in a breath, then let it out in a slow huff, as if trying to control her anger.

“C’mon, Bow,” she said after a moment, her eyes never leaving Catra. “Let’s get her back to my mother. She’ll know what to do with her.”

With that, she shoved Catra to her feet and pushed her along, as if marching her to jail.

Which, Catra thought miserably, she might as well be.

—————

“Force Captain Adora. Are you ready to deploy?”

“Uh—yes.” The senior Force Captain addressing her stood just behind, waiting impatiently as if she were still a cadet, and not a captain. Some part of her resented the implication, but she didn’t question it. There was too much going on in her head, too much anxiety sitting just under her skin.

For a long moment after her answer, she didn’t move. Just stared at the surveillance cameras, all of which were tuned to Thaymor, and tried to swallow what she was seeing.

Behind her, the senior Force Captain made an impatient noise. “Whenever you’re ready, Force Captain Adora.”

The meaning was clear. Turn around, take up your role. Get going, already—it’s your time.

That was what Shadow Weaver always said when she was younger, sometimes screamed to her face, sometimes whispered in her ear.

_It will be your time, Adora. When you’re ready._

“Sorry.” Adora swallowed hard, then turned to face the senior Force Captain and nodded. “I understand the troops are just waiting on my order?”

The senior Force Captain nodded slowly, as if to say ‘obviously’. “Yes. They’re equipped and ready.”

“Okay. I’ll give the order. Just—give me a minute.” Adora leaned back slightly, one hand finding the controls to the surveillance feed. Her fingers rested upon the off button, but she didn’t press it. “Is that okay?”

Stupid—she didn’t need to ask if it was okay. And sure enough, the senior Force Captain very obviously rolled his eyes, then said, “Yes. It’s your mission, after all. I’ll relay the order.”

“Thank you.” Adora watched him go, her fingers still resting on the off button, then turned back to the surveillance feed.

She’d been watching it for the past hour. She had never actually visited surveillance before—it was strictly off-limits to cadets—but she had wanted to get a feel for the defenses she would be facing. She was already worried sick about Catra, and the thin window of opportunity to find her. In order to get her mind off of it, she’d turned the opposite direction, and plunged herself into work on the invasion of Thaymor, perfecting every last detail.

It had to be perfect. The more perfect it was, the more opportunity she would have to find Catra. Not to mention, if something went wrong—

Well. She didn’t want to think about it.

The surveillance feed was grainy black and white, no sound, only live images. She stared at them, eyes wide and hand resting on the off-button, and for the millionth time that hour, tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

There were no defenses that she could see, no soldiers, no weapons, no tanks. Instead, the people—strange people, of a type she’d never seen before—danced and ate and laughed and played what might have been games, though Adora recognized none of them. They looked carefree, as if they had no idea they were meant to be fighting a war.

They looked happy.

It was a strange dissonance, and one Adora couldn’t wrap her head around. Something about it disquieted her, in a way she automatically shied away from, because the shape of it held a question.

_Are we supposed to be doing this?_

The answer, of course, was yes. Who would tell her no? It was her orders, after all, and her mission. The entirety of the Horde had agreed that she was supposed to be doing this. Who was she to question otherwise? Who was she to think she knew better?

And they had kidnapped Catra. That she knew, and that answered any question she might have had.

Instead, she stared at the screens, and forced the feelings into anger. It was hard, like a child molding stiff clay, but she dug her fingers in and worked it until it made sense.

They were fighting a war. This she knew. The _Rebellion_ were fighting a war—they were dangerous instigators, violent and unsafe, and clearly, by the looks of the surveillance feed, they reveled in it. They knew what they were, and they dared to not care, to not be _better_ , and the thought made her—

Angry. Almost surprisingly so, but it was a relief in a way, because the anger made sense. When she looked at the screens, she saw people who celebrated while the world around them fought—people who didn’t care. People who saw a world that could be changed, and chose to let the instigators have their way with it.

It would almost be satisfying, she thought, to show them the error of their ways.

She stared at the surveillance feed a moment longer, forcing the anger in her stomach, fanning it like a flame, trying to burn away the anxiety roiling in her gut. Anxiety wouldn’t help her win. Neither would nerves, or fear, or uncertainty.

Anger was better. So she labored over it, pushed it into a flame hot enough to burn, and then picked up her communicator and thumbed the button.

“Lonnie?” It only took Lonnie a moment to answer.

“Yes, Force Captain?”

“Deployment in five minutes. We’re moving out.”

—————

Despite forcing Catra to march ahead of them, and despite the eyes she could feel laser glued to her back, Glimmer and Bow didn’t seem all that vigilant in their guard duty. Or at least, they weren’t cruel. They never pushed her along, except to occasionally steer her in the right direction, and they never lashed out or pulled any painful tricks, the way Catra knew plenty of Horde soldiers would.

It was almost disturbing, the realization that she was getting better treatment from the enemy than she would from her own people, had the roles been reversed.

But then again, that didn’t matter, did it? The Rebellion got what was coming to them. They were the—the—the whatever propaganda the instructors threw at them, the kind Catra tuned out and Adora drunk in like wine. Violent instigators, or something. Sure, the Horde could smash them to pieces, but they probably deserved it, anyway. 

At least, Catra wanted to believe they deserved it. The truth—that she’d never bothered to care one way or the other—was harder to swallow. She didn’t like being confronted with it now.

So she ignored it—pushed it to the side and blocked it out. Morality had never bothered her before, and she wouldn’t let it now. Catra had long since learned that the world—or at least the Horde—didn’t hold place for such thought. Morality was never about doing what was right. It was about survival, and grabbing what you could with both hands.

So when Catra was young, she’d grabbed onto the only good thing she could find—Adora—and held tight. And she wasn’t about to give that up now.

Even if the Rebellion were too nice for her own good.

Behind her, in what she was discovering to be their typical lack of subtlety, Bow and Glimmer were whispering too-loudly, trading what wasn’t the first of many hushed arguments.

“Are you sure you can’t teleport us back to Bright Moon?”

“I told you, that last one completely—”

“Okay, sorry, but—”

“There’s a place close by, we just need to figure out—”

“You know, I can totally hear you guys.” Catra rolled her eyes, even though they couldn’t see, and couldn’t help a brief spurt of satisfaction at their appalled silence.

“Quiet, prisoner!” Glimmer said, her voice too high-pitched to really carry off any threat. “You shouldn’t even be talking!”

Again, Catra rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t talking, princess. You were. But by all means, go ahead. The less eyes on me, the sooner I get out of here.”

That was big talk for somebody who had her hands tied behind her back—but not, in all honesty, too big. The ties had loosened slightly in their long walk, and Catra knew from Bow and Glimmer’s hushed conversations that Glimmer was out of juice, whatever that meant. Probably, if Catra wanted to get away, she might be able to scrape it.

And go where? She had no idea where she was, or where to go. Not to mention, Bow still had his hands on that damn mask, and she didn’t want to leave it behind. Curiosity still tugged at her, as annoying as a fly buzzing around her head, and much as she wanted to swat it away, she couldn’t. 

Something about that mask—and its terrifying effects—belonged to her. They meant something, something deeper than she had ever felt. Something that meant she was more, maybe, than she’d ever believed.

The thought was too impossible to be true. That Catra—second rate, loser, the unfavorite, bottom of the barrel—could ever be something more than all Shadow Weaver claimed she wasn’t…well, it was crazy.

It also drew her, in a way she had never felt before. Sure, Catra had always wanted to be special—to be first. To have an answer to all the questions that always plagued her. To think that such a thing could be at her fingertips…

It was almost intoxicating. 

Which was why, even though her head screamed at her to run, her feet stayed firmly planted on the ground.

Besides, a small, fearful voice whispered at the back of her head, what was Shadow Weaver going to do to her when she came back home?

Catra wasn’t keen to find out.

“Sure.” Bow’s voice, utterly smug, drew her out of her reverie. “Like you would escape. You like us too much.”

“Like you?!” Catra stopped in her tracks, then spun around. “I don’t even know you two! We’ve barely talked!”

“Yeah, but we’re cool,” Bow answered, crossing his arms over his chest. The mask dangled from one hand, and Catra’s eyes flicked to it momentarily before flying back to his face.

“You are not cool,” she snarled, her claws unsheathing almost instinctively, though she knew they would be of no use. “And you suck at kidnapping. We haven’t even gotten anywhere, and it’s been hours.”

“More like a day,” Glimmer grumbled, but then she frowned and tilted her head. “Actually, Bow is right. Why haven’t you tried to escape?”

“What?” Catra drew back, ears flattening. “Because you idiots have me tied, that’s why!”

_Because you’re not sure you want to go back yet_ , a voice piped up, but she ignored it. So what if she wasn’t ready to face Shadow Weaver’s punishment? So what if she still wanted to figure out what was happening to her? They didn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah, but you have claws,” Glimmer pointed out, eyebrow still raised. “You could probably use them if you wanted to. I mean, we don’t want you to, but…yeah.”

She frowned again as she said this, as if considering the realities of the statement. Catra stared at her for a long moment, then let out a huff and spun around.

“Whatever!” she growled to the woods. “Let’s just hurry up and get to wherever you idiots are taking me, so I can wait around to be rescued!”

_If they would even try to rescue her_ , a small part of her whispered. _Because everybody knows Shadow Weaver wouldn’t care two whits about your loss._

But Adore would. She had to believe that. Adora would.

She really missed Adora. 

Behind her, Glimmer whispered something to Bow she couldn’t hear. Then, after a moment, she heard footsteps hurry to catch up. They fell into pace just behind her, and for a long moment, the three of them continued as such—in silence.

Then, after several minutes, Bow broke it.

“Hey, uh—” His voice, far more gentle than Catra ever anticipated, hesitated over her name.

“Catra,” she huffed, then cringed internally. Why was she telling them her name? Strategically it didn’t matter, but—

“Catra,” Bow said in relief. “Hi. Nice to meet you. Uh, we didn’t mean to tease you. It was kind of rude.”

“Rude?” Catra glanced over her shoulder, ears flicking in disbelief. “Are you kidding? You’re my kidnappers! You should be beating me into the ground!”

Behind her, Bow and Glimmer shared a horrified glance. “What?” Glimmer exclaimed, and Catra could have laughed. “Why would we do that?”

“Uh, because we’re enemies, princess! Duh!” Her tail was lashing uncomfortably as she spoke—stupid giveaways. “Trust me, any Horde soldier would do the same.”

“Yeah, because you guys are evil!” As Catra took another step forward, Glimmer jogged to catch up with her. “Okay, you can’t seriously tell me you aren’t evil when you just said you would do that!”

“Yeah, so?” Catra’s eyes were boring into the ground, her ears flat against her head. This was getting uncomfortably close to territory she didn’t feel like discussing. Ever. “Can’t take a couple of hits, princess?”

“Uh—” Glimmer, struggling to keep up with Catra’s pace, stumbled over a root before righting herself. “Of course I can! But that doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong!”

Catra laughed. “No, it means you’re weak.” For emphasis, she lashed her tail at Glimmer, who pushed it away with a huff. Bow trailed behind, mask swinging nervously from his fingers. “That’s why the Horde is gonna win, you know. Because we know what it means to be strong. We can take what we dish out.”

She expected them to cower, or maybe respond angrily. Probably the second one. But instead, when she glanced at them, she only saw Bow and Glimmer exchange a look laden with a meaning she didn’t understand.

“Uh, Catra…” It was Bow who spoke first, his voice horrifically…gentle. “Do they, uh…hurt you, in the Horde?”

“What?” Catra’s ears pressed flat against her throat as defensiveness clogged her throat. “No! I mean—we’re soldiers, what do you think? We train!”

But that’s not all, a sly voice reminded her. Punishments were the norm for cadets in the Horde, but so was cruelty, wasn’t it? Jokes and jibes and blows traded, not only from instructors, but between cadets as well, because that’s how they were raised. If Catra lost her rations for a week, she learned to steal them from another. If a cadet was slow, or weak, the others were encouraged to single him out. Hell, Adora was the sweetest person Catra knew, despite the Horde’s attempts to beat that out of her, and she still delighted in pulling a fast one on Kyle. It was simply…their bread and butter.

In the Horde, the instructors pitted them against each other in an act of survival; may the best one win. Catra had figured this out long ago, and played the game as best she could. Adora was too dumb to ever really catch on, but she played anyway, because it was all she knew. It was just the way things were.

And now Bow and Glimmer, _Rebellion fighters_ , had the nerve to look at her with—what? Pity? Like she couldn’t tear both their throats out? Like she hadn’t grown up by the skin of her teeth, learned to fight and tear and win against all odds, including against the people who had raised her?

Idiots. They didn’t know anything. With a snarl, Catra spun on her feet back to the front, and set off.

“When the hell are we supposed to get where we’re going?” she shot back over her shoulder. “If I’m going to be put in jail, can’t you hurry it up? Before I get annoyed enough to kill you?”

Behind her, Bow and Glimmer scrambled to catch up. Catra strode ahead, and refused to examine the irony of leading her captors to her own future prison cell.

Whatever. She just wanted to escape those ugly, pitying looks.

“Hey, wait!” Glimmer jogged up beside her, and slowed to match her pace. “Listen, we didn’t mean to, uh, pry! We’re just—well, you know, it’s not right to treat people like that.” 

She hesitated a moment, her eyes scanning over Catra’s form, and then her face hardened with determination. “Anybody like that.”

Catra scoffed. “Oh, sure, princess. Now you throw me a pity party? What happened to ‘you’re evil and you’ll never change’?”

“I didn’t mean that,” huffed Glimmer, then she tossed her hands up in the air. “I mean, of course people can change! I just don’t get how you can look at a place like that destroyed village and just…not care.”

Catra gritted her teeth, a familiar, uncomfortable feeling pitting her stomach. It might have been guilt, but she refused to go there, refused to even contemplate the idea.

Let her be evil. Why should she even care what they think? Her world was a tiny system, no more than two pieces of machinery clinking together in harmony. Herself and Adora, and that was all she had ever needed. Why would she let anybody else in?

Why would anybody even try?

“Pretty bold of you to assume I don’t care,” she muttered before she could stop herself, and then bit down hard. Of course her damn pride would get in the way of things. Of course she’d try to prove something in front of these imbeciles.

Glimmer actually stopped in her tracks, then reached out to grab her arm, pulling Catra to a halt as well.

“What the hell, princess?” she spun around, shaking her off in the process. “Just because I’m your captive doesn’t mean you can put your hands on me!”

But the Horde would have done so much worse already, an insistent voice reminded her. She pushed it back irritably. Since when had her brain gotten so talkative?

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Catra!” Glimmer shot up both hands in defense, then pulled Bow to her side. “We’re not trying to hurt you. We just want to…”

“Help,” Bow put in, and Glimmer’s eyes snapped to him, sparking with indecision, before she squared her jaw and nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, biting her lip. “Listen, we can’t give you the mask, and we have to bring you to jail. But maybe if you talk to my mother…” She seemed to be thinking it out as she spoke, wracking her brains for words as she went. “You could…talk to her! You could strike a deal!”

Catra stared at her. “What does your mother have to do with anything?”

“Uh—” Glimmer opened her mouth, then shut it again. “Well, my mother’s sort of the queen.”

Oh. Catra’s eyes widened. That explained a lot—including Glimmer’s attitude, and the powers, and her sparkly hair. Catra just hadn’t believed she was a princess in _every_ sense of the word.

“Your mom is—the queen?” But even as she stared, parsing the words through her mind, her brain was starting to turn. Clearly, they wanted information out of her—she was a Horde soldier, and when was the last time a Horde soldier had been captured?

(When was the last time a Horde soldier had ever been so careless?)

But that would mean betraying the Horde—except, what did she care about the Horde? Sure, she’d grown up in it. Sure, it was her home. But it also held a host of bad memories, of cuts and bruises and terrible punishments, of being told she was never going to amount to anything and she might as well give up trying, of being reminded that she was lesser. She’d always stood out, with her tail and her ears, even more than the other non-humans, because there wasn’t anybody like her. She was Catra, unique in every way that mattered, and in none of the ways that did. She had never truly been accepted there.

Except for the one person she couldn’t leave behind.

And just like that, the wheels in her brain stopped stone cold. The cautious hope which had begun to bloom in her chest stopped just in time for Catra to realize it was there.

Of course. She could never, ever leave Adora. And that was precisely why she couldn’t leave.

Except—

If Adora came with her—

No. Catra stopped the thought before it even began. Then she shook her head, and said out loud, “You’ll have to try harder than that to make a traitor out of me, princess.”

Glimmer’s nose wrinkled in anger, and she opened her mouth to say something—probably to yell about how evil Catra was—when a shout from their left had them both turning.

“Guys!” Bow was peering through the foliage, face shining as if he’d just made the discovery of a lifetime. “We made it!”

“Made it?” Glimmer spun around and darted to his side, seemingly forgetful of the prisoner in her care. “To Bright Moon?”

Bow shook his head, but his smile didn’t drop. “No, but it’s civilization!”

And with that he pulled back a large branch, revealing the likes of a civilization Catra had never seen in her life.

She stared. And stared. Then she stepped closer, furrowing her brow in slight consternation. “Uh, Arrow boy?”

“Huh?” Bow was fiddling with the tracker pad, apparently trying to figure out where they were. “What’s up?”

With both tied hands, Catra pointed. “What the hell is that?”

Bow looked up at her then, confused, then turned to the scene before him. He cocked his head, studying it for several moments, before something seemed to click.

Then he turned back to Catra, horror dawning on his face.

“Catra—” His voice held horror too, and damn it, there was the pity again. “Have you never been to a party?”

“A what?”

Bow just gaped at her. Then he turned his gaze to Glimmer, putting on the biggest, most obnoxious pout Catra had ever seen.

Glimmer narrowed her eyes, and crossed her arms. “No. Way.”

“But Glimmer—!” Bow shoved his hand out toward the scene before them, which Catra could still make head nor tail of. There was food, and what looked like dancing, and—games? “She’s never been to a party. Ever!”

“Yeah, and she’ll run away the moment we untie her!” Glimmer said. “Besides, what do we care! She doesn’t even want to defect!”

“Oh, you mean I don’t want to leave my literal home?” Catra rolled her eyes. “Nice call on that one, genius.”

“Ugh!” Glimmer groaned, and ran a hand over her face. “Bow, we don’t even like her, remember! We’re not supposed to like her!”

Okay, that one hurt. Still, Catra didn’t let it show. She was used to bandaging over barbs with a cool mask of nonchalance. 

Also, to be fair, it wasn’t like she’d been trying to make friends. She wasn’t good at it the way Adora was.

If Adora were in her place, Catra thought bitterly, she’d probably already have them both wrapped around her little finger.

“But Glimmer—” Bow was saying, his eyes filled with a pleading Catra couldn’t understand. Why the hell did he even care about showing her whatever a party was? “We have to untie her anyway if we pass through here, or everybody will freak out when they see a Horde soldier.”

“Even if I’m tied?” Catra’s ears perked up. At least she could retain some semblance of threat.

Glimmer cast her a cool look. “You’d be scared too if your home and family had been torn apart by the Horde.”

Okay, that one hurt too. Catra opened her mouth to shoot back a response, then decided it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if these idiots knew anything about her, anyway. They couldn’t know that she’d been abandoned too, that the Horde had took her in when she hadn’t had a home, and that she’d managed to make one, despite all odds.

Well, maybe not a home. But she’d managed to make a friend, and better yet, hold onto her, and maybe that was just as good.

“C’mon, Glimmer—” Bow was still arguing, though Catra couldn’t imagine why. “You know I’m right. We have to disguise her, and that means untying her. Why can’t we just—stop for food along the way?”

Glimmer huffed, arms crossed, and opened her mouth to reply. “Because—”

“Oh, please, princess.” Catra cut her off with a roll of her eyes. “Seriously, just because I can’t take you two arguing about it anymore, think for a second. If you untie me, do you really think I’m going to run away? When I have no idea where I am?”

Glimmer cast her a disbelieving look. “You could still attack us.”

She wouldn’t. Catra bit her tongue the moment she realized that, and the taste was bitter. She was a soldier, yes, and the kind that wasn’t afraid to fight, but killing the people she had been talking to for the past day in cold blood was…well, it wasn’t as if she had done anything like it before. It wasn’t as if they had trained her for such a scenario in the Horde.

It was a gut churning idea, even for her.

“In full view of those people?” she said instead, and nodded towards the villagers, only a few meters and several buildings away. “Yeah, right. One scream, and I bet even they won’t let me get away.”

She wasn’t actually sure that was true—they looked kind of soft. But Glimmer bit her lip indecisively, then let out a sharp breath.

“Fine!” She tossed her hands up in the air, then nodded towards Bow. “But no stopping! We disguise her, and move through.”

Bow nodded, grinning. “Absolutely. No stopping.”

—————

They stopped. Almost immediately, in fact, and it was entirely Bow’s fault.

“Okay, you have to try this!” Before Catra could even protest, he grabbed her hand and began to drag her to a table laden with food. 

“Get off me!” Catra cried, but they were at the table before she could pull away, and then he was shoving something into her hands.

“Eat this,” he ordered, and because she hadn’t eaten in over a day and it smelled amazing, she did.

It was amazing. All of it was amazing, actually, more so than any ration bar Catra had ever tasted. Before she knew it, she was seated at the table (Bow having guided her after she started to eat with both hands), and shoveling more varied food than she had ever seen in her life into her mouth.

“Bow,” Glimmer grumbled, but she seated herself at Catra’s side anyway, and when Catra reached for another bowl, she shoved it towards her.

“Nobody listens to me,” Glimmer muttered under her breath, and though Catra thought about replying, she decided not to push her luck.

Because this was almost…normal. No, not normal. It was weird, incredibly so, but it also felt right. Bow was regaling her with some story, and Glimmer was listening despite herself—Catra was too, because, well it was interesting—and it really felt, oddly enough, like she was back with Adora, trading stories in one of their rare free times. Like they were friends, even though they definitely weren’t and the only reason Catra hadn’t run off already was because she both didn’t know where she was and didn’t know how to pry the mask out of Bow’s hands without making a scene.

She would get it eventually, she was sure of it. And then she would make her escape (because by now, she was sure nobody was looking for her. Not even Adora, and that hurt). But first, she would eat some fantastic food.

And play the games they offered her. And talk to the locals, supposedly to gather intel, but actually because, even if they were softies, they were kind of interesting. They were all hybrids like Catra, though not of her type, and it was intriguing, if not something of a relief, to meet people like her.

And to find that they knew a little something about her.

“You know, I didn’t know there were still Magicats around.”

Catra froze, one hand reaching out to grab another roll, then slowly turned to the voice beside her. It belonged to a man with hooves and antlers, who, with Bow off watching the dances, had chosen to occupy his seat.

On her other side, Glimmer sucked in a sharp breath, as if realizing something in that moment.

“The what?” Catra asked, forcing herself not to sound defensive. Her tone lashed easily when she wasn’t careful, and here, she knew she had to be.

Especially when this guy had called her a—a what?

“The Magicats,” the man said cheerfully, and reached for a roll himself, chomping off a large piece and chewing. “You know. They were one of the most powerful species of Etheria. One of the first to develop, too. Shame they’re not around anymore.”

His eyes roamed over her form then, and he frowned. “Or, I guess people think.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Catra responded, but the curious flick forward of her ears betrayed her. “What’s a Magicat?”

The man’s frown deepened, and his eyes once more passed over his form. “Uh, aren’t you—?”

“Of course she is!” That was when Glimmer cut in, tossing an unwelcome hand over Catra’s shoulder. Catra’s ears pressed down, and she suppressed the urge to hiss.

Damn rebels and their weird touchy-feelyness. Couldn’t they give it a rest?

“She just loves jokes,” Glimmer was explaining to the confused local. “She knows she’s a Magicat. Right, Catra?”

Catra really wanted to turn around and contradict her, if only to sow a little discord. But she knew that there was nothing to stop Glimmer from tearing off the cloak she had reluctantly lent her, and if she did, Catra was likely to get dogpiled by a bunch of angry villagers.

So she forced the thinnest smile she could muster. “Yep. I definitely do.”

“Okay.” The man shrugged, clearly confused but not willing to press the issue, and rose, roll still in hand. “Uh, nice meeting you, then. Catra.”

“Sure.” Catra grinned at him, and just for fun, made sure to show off her sharp canines. The man frowned, then moved off toward the dancers. 

And Catra spun around, pushing off Glimmer’s hand.

“First of all, do not touch me,” she hissed, tail fluffing. “And second of all, what the hell is a Magicat?”

But Glimmer was staring at her, shaking her head as if she’d suddenly seen the sun through the clouds. “How did I not notice it before?” she said, her eyes roaming over Catra as if she was seeing her for the first time. “I mean, I knew you were a species I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t think that—”

“That what?” Catra hissed. She felt, all of a sudden, as if she were on the verge of understanding something she had longed to know her entire life. “Does that have to do with my mask?”

“It’s not _your_ mask,” Glimmer retorted, but she was frowning and looking past Catra, as if trying to recall some distant memory. “My mom told me about them when I was little. They—they’re half feline, half humanoid. Like you.”

Catra glanced down at herself, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Okay? So? Where are they?”

If she knew where they were, that might mean that she had family out there. That she had a life waiting for her, and people who understood, people who were like her.

A real home. Not the Horde, ugly and dismal, Adora her only light shining in the darkness. Someplace she belonged.

“They fought in the first Princess Alliance.” Glimmer was still frowning as she spoke, trying to recall. “But then they…disappeared. There were rumors that they died, or that they just went into hiding, but—”

She broke off and shrugged. “That’s it. I know their queen worked with my mom and dad, but she disappeared with the rest of her people. She—” And then her eyes went wide, and she stood up so suddenly she knocked the table. “Oh!”

“Oh what?” Catra stood up as well, tail lashing back and forth—with excitement, anticipation, or pure nerves, she didn’t know. She felt like she was standing on the kind of precipice she could jump off if she so wanted to.

She sort of wanted to.

“Oh—we need to find the village library!” Without asking, and ignoring Catra’s disgruntled yelp, she grabbed her hand and dragged her to the dancers. “Bow, c’mon! We need your help!”

Bow barely had time to ask where they were going before Glimmer was dragging them both along, asking directions to the village library and them pulling them both in that direction. They stopped in front of a low, long building and then, before Catra could ask what they were doing, Glimmer plunged inside.

She was already rifling through books by the time Bow and Catra followed, muttering furiously with her back towards them.

“C’mon, c’mon—” she whispered, flipping pages fast enough it was a miracle they didn’t tear. “I need to—there!”

“Uh, Glimmer?” Bow’s voice was tentative. “Whatcha looking for?”

“This!” Glimmer whirled around, and shoved a book into Catra’s face, so close she was forced to take a step back. “Look!”

It took Catra a moment to focus down her nose on the page being forced in front of her. Then she did, and her eyes widened.

“That’s—” she whispered.

“The queen!” Glimmer said excitedly, and jabbed a finger towards the top of the picture, to the mask perched upon her forehead. “Look! It’s the same mask!”

And it was. Anybody with eyes could see that. It was the same red mask, a splash of color against the black and white image of what was clearly a person like Catra.

A Magicat, apparently. Catra’s people.

She had a people. The thought filled her, inexplicably, with a warmth she had never really known. The kind of warmth she had longed for in the darkest, loneliest nights, when even curling up at the foot of Adora’s bed couldn’t quell the sense of being alone.

Glimmer was staring at her, waiting for a response, as if, blinded by excitement, she had forgotten the dynamic at play. That Catra was still their prisoner, never mind that she couldn’t really make a break for it without getting utterly lost, and never mind that the past few hours had been…fun.

Fun. She would never admit that out loud.

So she crossed her arms and smirked like she had already known this all before. “So you admit the mask is mine?”

Glimmer’s face dropped like a stone at Catra’s words. Then, it twisted into a snarl.

“You’re not getting the mask!” she said, throwing the book onto a nearby table and crossing her arms as well. “According to my mom, the queen of the Magicats helped the Rebellion! You’re—you’re still Horde scum!”

“Horde scum?” Catra scoffed, anger flaring up in her. “You really want to say that to my face, sparkles?”

“Guys, c’mon—” Bow stepped in, but Glimmer brushed him away and stepped forward.

“We offered you a deal, you know!” she said, her eyes roaming angrily over Catra’s face. “You could do the smart thing and take it, or you could just resign yourself to spending the rest of your life in a jail cell, because you had to stay loyal to the evil side!”

Catra opened her mouth to shoot back a scathing retort, but Glimmer wasn’t done. She pressed forward, and jabbed a finger into Catra’s collarbone.

“What’s even there for you, anyway?” she asked. “You basically admitted they treat you horribly! Why would you ever want to go back?”

“Because—” Catra opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “Because—”

Because Adora was there. Obviously. She couldn’t leave without her, and Adora would never leave, so neither would Catra. It was as simple as that—except—

Except she didn’t want Adora to be a Force Captain in the Horde, if she was being honest with herself. Adora would be an excellent Force Captain, but it would also break her in so many ways Catra couldn’t bear to see. She’d always seen the Horde for what it really was—Adora hadn’t. She knew that the Horde would never, could never be kind to the people it fought, and Adora, the kindest of them all—

She would turn into the exact kind of person she thought she was fighting against.

Catra hated the very thought. 

“Because—” The word was still dangling off her tongue, taunting her with its inadequacy. “Because—”

“Uh, guys?” Bow’s voice, cracking with fear, broke the glare between them. Together, Glimmer and Catra turned to the door, where Bow was poking his head out. When he drew it back in, he looked—

Afraid.

“I think we have trouble,” he said with a gulp, and Catra was just going to ask him what that meant, when the familiar whistle of a tank shell answered the question itself.

War.

The Horde had found her. Finally.

So why on earth didn’t Catra feel happy about the idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: the battle of thaymor


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey im back! now we finally get to see thaymor and how things play out! i tried to make it its own thing (i dont really like going word for word, copy and paste, and i feel like the characters would react differently in different roles.) Anyway, i really hope this is realistic bc i really tried to get how adora and catra would react in such a situation. mainly, how adora would turn towards the horde, not away from it.

“One mile out from the village, Force Captain.”

Adora nodded, her eyes fixed upon the grainy screen before her. She was sweating in a cramped tank, soldiers she didn’t know bent over controls around her. Split up among the other tanks, somewhere behind, were Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle.

And she was leading the way.

“Advance.”

The tank commander nodded and pulled the controls. With a rumble, the tank moved forward, inch by everlasting inch.

Or at least, so it felt. Adora tapped one finger impatiently against the console, and glanced at the grainy footage on the screen. She couldn’t tell what the citizens—or soldiers?—were doing. They certainly didn’t seem to be preparing for an attack.

Unless they knew, and were going out of their way to appear weak.

That could be it. Adora focused on that idea, wrapped her brain around it until it made sense. Princesses were cunning, violent and smart. Of course they would feed lies to the video feed. Of course they would know how to do that.

Shadow Weaver had always told her she had to be one step ahead. Now, with this attack on Thaymor, which would supposedly be a surprise—unless the princesses were lying in wait—she would be.

“Force Captain.” The tank commander looked up, beckoning towards the tracker pad before him. “We’re nearly at the village. All is as we expected. Are we going ahead?”

What kind of a question was that? As if she would back out now. Adora glanced at the grainy feed, watched strange people dance and cheer, though she heard no sound.

Why were they so happy? she wondered. What did they have that she didn’t?

Her stomach churned, and then she swallowed hard, quashing the feeling.

“Yes.” She looked up and nodded. “We’re going ahead.”

————

For a moment, Catra could only stand frozen, her ears flat against her head.

They had found her. Finally, they had found her, and even more, they’d come in tanks blazing, to—rescue her? She couldn’t imagine it.

Shadow Weaver would never waste such firepower on her. So why had they come in force?

Glimmer spun around, and jabbed a finger into Catra’s chest. “Did you know about this?” she cried, anger blazing in her face. “Did you know they were going to attack Thaymor?”

“I—what?” Catra’s head snapped up, the words hitting her like a blow. “T-this is Thaymor?”

“Yes!” Glimmer cried, her face a mask of anguish, enough to give Catra a momentary flicker of guilt. “Catra, these people are innocent! Did you know about this?”

“I—uh—” Catra’s eyes darted to the door, just as another tank shell went whistling over head. It crashed nearby with an enormous boom, and they all winced.

Outside, people were screaming. 

So this was war, Catra thought grimly. Despite a whole life of preparation, somehow, she didn’t feel ready.

“Yes,” she forced out, shoulders sagging, and wondered if this was it. Would they kill her now, moments before her own troops got to her? Would her own troops do it for them?

She had, after all, been captured. She couldn’t imagine she’d escape punishment for such a heinous crime.

“You knew.” Bow was staring at her, his eyes wide, and damn it, that hurt way more than Glimmer’s betrayal. “You knew they were going to attack?”

“Well I didn’t know this was Thaymor!” Catra cried, shoving Glimmer’s accusatory finger away. “Yes, I knew about the invasion of Thaymor! But it’s supposed to be a military outpost, not—”

Not a party, whatever that was. Not people just living their lives. But then again, hadn’t Catra known that, somewhere deep down? The Horde had always fought dirty—that was where Catra learned it from. Sure, she did it to survive, and they did it for conquest, but what was the difference, anyway? May the strongest win. 

But Catra had never been the strongest. If she was going to throw Thaymor under the wheels of a tank, wasn’t she just dragging herself down with it?

But what the hell else was she supposed to do?

“I can’t believe this!” Glimmer spun around, her hands in the air. “Bow, she knew about this the whole time! She was a spy, and we—”

She broke off, shaking her head, and that shouldn’t have hurt, but it did anyway. Because despite herself, and despite their aggravating goodness and too-soft personalities, Catra had sort of begun to like these people. They were…okay.

They didn’t deserve to die. Nobody deserved to die here.

But nobody could stop it, except—

“Give me the mask.” Catra straightened, then lunged for Glimmer, who spun around, then pushed Bow—the mask in his hands—out of reach. “I’m not strong enough by myself, but I can—I can scare them off, maybe. Or whatever I did there. They don’t like magic, they might retreat if I—”

But Glimmer pushed Bow away, and stepped protectively in front of him. “Why the hell should we trust you?”

“Because—!” Because, because, why? Because she was having a momentary flicker of doubt? Because suddenly, the crimes of her own side, which she had long ignored, were being thrust under her nose? Because she didn’t have the stomach to let her own captors die?

Weak, Shadow Weaver would have called her. But Catra never listened to Shadow Weaver anyway.

“Because I can help!” she said, and this time, as another shell crashed overhead, dangerously close, she didn’t stop to hear their objections. She launched herself forward, knocking Glimmer to the side and Bow to the ground, and snatched the mask from his hands.

“Hey!” Bow cried, his voice muffled, but she wasn’t listening. In a flash, she was on her feet, the mask clutched in one hand, and then she was out the door, ignoring the cries of betrayal behind her.

Those hurt too, but what did it matter? Her whole life, nobody had ever let Catra speak her own side. Nobody had let her explain herself, or say why she was doing what she was doing. She knew the Horde wasn’t going to, once they finally got her back. Why should her captors be any different?

Maybe these tentative new friends—if they could be called that—would never look at her the same way again. But maybe, for the first time in her life, Catra could fight back.

Maybe this time, she’d have the tools to win.

—————

“Force Captain Adora, you’re needed outside.”

For a moment, Adora couldn’t respond. She couldn’t bring herself to move either, frozen in place as she stared at the grainy video footage.

People were dying. They were dying, and screaming, and they weren’t even fighting back.

_Why weren’t they fighting back?_

It had to be a trick of some kind, a lure to draw their forces in before the real hammer came down. Adora knew she had to be careful, had to get up there and command the troops herself, to make sure that whatever the princesses were planning wouldn’t hit, but for a moment, she truly couldn’t move.

Instead she only felt as if she were going to be sick.

“Force Captain Adora.” The tank commander was impatient, his voice clipped. “We need—”

“I know, I’m coming.” With a jerk of her limbs, she forced herself into movement. Put a helmet on her head and clambered up to the hatch, then pushed it open.

This was going great, she tried to tell herself. Everything was going perfectly. As soon as Thaymor was subdued, she’d take her squad and head out to find Catra. Sure, it would tack on a few hours to her time, but what did it matter in the face of finding her best friend?

Catra should be here with her. Adora felt that as surely as she felt the helmet hanging onto her head. It was a mistake, not arguing against Shadow Weaver. Probably, if Adora had argued to get her onto her team, she would never have left in the first place.

All Adora’s fault, as usual. Adora swallowed hard as she made it to the top of the tank, and pushed herself to her feet, never mind the shells sailing over head. It was all her fault, but she’d fix this. Once she got Catra back, she’d fight harder for her. Argue against any punishment—Shadow Weaver was always so harsh on Catra—and make sure to get her on her team. Then they’d be together again, just as they were supposed to be.

All her fault. The words repeated themselves over and over again as she scanned the battlefield, wincing against gunshots and shells. War was different from anything she’d imagined. It was…louder, and the sounds hit deep in her gut, which screamed at her to run, to hide.

But she’d never done that in her life, so instead she brought up the binoculars at her belt, and held them to her face.

That immediately made it worse. Up close, she could see the destroyed buildings, the people running, screaming, crying. It didn’t make sense, seeing that, but she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind and continued.

It wasn’t her job to reassure the enemy. She had to survey, and watch, and make sure they wouldn’t be caught in a surprise attack. She had to make sure her troops were advancing as ordered, and weren’t meeting—

Resistance. There, in the demolished remains of a building. As she swung her binoculars around to get a better view, her eyes widened and panic spiked in her heart—but only for a moment. Then she quashed it, biting her lip to remain calm.

Resistance was expected, she reminded herself. She just had to figure out what was happening, then take the necessary actions.

Heart slowed, she squinted through the binoculars, straining to make out what was happening. It was far off, enough to make out only indistinct figures, but she could see her own forces rushing forward, rushing towards—

And then the familiar figure, the figure they were rushing to, straightened, and Adora’s heart went still. Slowly, the binoculars lowered.

Her mind was blank, both with shock and confusion. Even so, one word, a question tacked on, slipped from her lips.

“Catra?”

—————

“Damn it, you stupid mask! Why won’t you work?!”

In any other moment, she would have felt like an idiot talking to herself. At the moment, she was in too much of a hurry—and admittedly, a slight panic—to care.

She had done something dumb. Something really, actually, stupid. 

She’d decided to go up against the Horde—or talk to the Horde? Even in her own brain, she couldn’t decide—with nothing in her hands but a magic mask that wouldn’t even _work_.

This was turning into a really bad idea.

“I just—” And now there were troops, here own troops, rushing her, and all Catra could think, as she dodged tasers, the mask still on her forehead, that she had made a really, really big mistake.

“I just want to talk!”

It wasn’t working. Either they couldn’t hear her, or they didn’t care, or worse, they had heard about the troublesome cadet from Adora’s squad and were determined to teach her a lesson. 

She really didn’t like the last option. Even more than that, she really didn’t like fighting people who were _supposed to be on her side._

At least, she thought they were on her side. Or she was on theirs. She couldn’t tell anymore, truthfully, but she was very pointedly trying not to think about that, because that line of thought just drove her into an entire existential crisis.

Sure, she wasn’t comfortable with what the Horde were doing at Thaymor. Sure, she knew she’d probably be punished the moment she got back, Adora on her side or no. And sure, there was no way in hell she would leave her idiotic mask behind, non-working or no. Not when it dangled over her head so many secrets about a life she’d given up for lost.

The truth was, Catra had no idea what she was doing. But if she could just _talk_ to them—

“I’m just trying—damn it—to talk to you idiots!” she snarled, swiping a taser to the side. “Look at me! I’m wearing your uniform!”

“A defector,” the nearest Horde soldier growled, and Catra groaned.

“No, idiot! A captive! Now just let me talk to your commander!”

“Oh, you’ll talk to her,” another Horde soldier growled. “Once we put you in handcuffs.”

“Again—ow!” Catra stumbled back as a taser struck too close to home. “I just want to talk!”

But her urgent cries weren’t making a difference. The squad she was fighting—shouldn’t they be doing something else, she wondered desperately, like terrorizing people?—kept coming at her, no matter how hard she fought back. And Catra was a good fighter, but even she could only hold off a group of soldiers for so long. Sooner or later, they’d get her hands on her, and she’d be taken in.

And the village would be destroyed. Somehow, that bothered Catra more than she cared to admit. 

Who was leading this charge? she wondered desperately as she fought, at this point tooth and claw, against the soldiers. Why weren’t they at the front? Any good Force Captain would be—but then, good was relative in the Horde. Most of the ‘good’ Force Captains were more like administers or torture, or so Catra had heard horror stories. She knew from speaking to other squads that often the cruelest, most ruthless cadets were cherry-picked.

And then she thought of Adora, and her stomach churned. Adora wasn’t close to the typical Force Captain—she would never lead a battle like this. Hell, she’d probably defect after a single glimpse of the carnage caused. Because Adora wasn’t weak like Catra was. She was moral, and strong, and—

“Stand down!”

And apparently Catra was hallucinating, because she was pretty sure she’d just heard her voice.

“Soldiers, stand down!”

The soldiers attacking Catra hesitated, then, to Catra’s utter surprise, lowered their weapons. Casting confused glances at each other, one by one they began to turn.

“Ma’am—?” One of the soldiers called into the smoke-drenched remains. “Why—”

His question was lost to the wind, or at least to Catra’s ears, because in the moment between the why and whatever came next, Catra was attacked.

Or rather, knocked into the ground, with such overwhelming, familiar force that it could only come from one person.

“Catra!” Adora’s voice, which came muffled into her shoulder, bordered on a sob of relief. Her arms, wrapped around Catra’s chest, were tight enough to cut off her air. “You’re alive! I was so worried—”

“Adora?” Catra pulled away slightly, if only to get some air, and gaped. Some part of her mind clearly wasn’t working right, she thought distantly, because Adora couldn’t be here, in this wartorn village, and she couldn’t be the person that the solders called _ma’am_.

Nothing about this made sense.

“I was so worried!” Adora said again into her shoulder. She was still squeezing Catra, too tightly for her to catch a breath. “Shadow Weaver wouldn’t let me go after you, but I said that after the attack on Thaymor—”

“Wait—this is your attack?” Catra’s head was spinning, the blood roaring in her ears. Pieces were falling into place, but too slowly for her to make sense of them.

Adora couldn’t be leading this attack. Adora was too kind, and nice, and goodhearted to look at the things they were doing, the things Catra had always known about, and call them okay.

There had to be a mistake.

“Of course it’s my attack, dummy!” Adora pulled back and shoved her lightly on the shoulder, laughing in a way that suggested tears. “What, did you think I would just leave you out here?”

“No, but—” Catra sat up from the dirt and shook her head, trying to assemble her thoughts. “You destroyed a whole village for me?”

Somewhere deep in her chest, a strange feeling bloomed at the thought. That Adora would tear apart the world to get her back, that she would do anything in her power to stay together, just like they’d always said—Catra had never believed that to be a reality. She’d always considered herself the over-invested, and Adora the one taking pity on her. 

But this—

Adora sat back, something in her expression twisting unpleasantly. “It’s not a village, Catra. It’s a military outpost.”

“Huh?” Catra stared, her thoughts still moving too slow to catch up. Then they did, like the snap of a rubber band, and it clicked. “Wait—Adora! This is exactly what I was trying to tell your troops! It’s not a military outpost, it’s a village! You can pull back!”

“What?” Adora drew back, confusion flashing across her face. Slowly, she shook her head, cocking it as if perhaps Catra were brain damaged. “Catra—what are you talking about? The reports say—”

“The reports are wrong, Adora!” And maybe it was excitement, or pure adrenaline, but Catra lunged forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, knocking her into the dirt the same way she used to do when they were children. “It’s a village, and you have to get the troops out of here! You’re killing innocent people!”

As she said the words, something hard and heavy fell away from her stomach, something she hadn’t even known to be sitting there. Maybe it was the knowledge that the people she had spent the last day with, not to mention the people of the village, wouldn’t die because she’d chosen to stand aside.

Maybe Catra, the thrown aside and the weakling, could actually do something right for once in her life.

But Adora was still staring at her, her face drawn up in confusion, and Catra wanted to growl in frustration. How could she not get it? Adora had always been slow on the uptake, but she was never the kind of person to turn away.

Or at least, Catra wanted to think.

After a long, agonizing moment, Adora raised a hand and pushed Catra to the side, then struggled into a sitting position. She didn’t say anything as she did so, and Catra, caught on the edge of both surprise and hope, let her.

“Catra.” Her words were slow, and careful. “I’m sorry for whatever the rebels did to you. But the vil—Thaymor isn’t an innocent town. It’s a stronghold of rebel activity, and it needs to be destroyed.”

Catra just stared at her, heart sinking to her feet. Somehow, once again, none of this was making sense, but now Catra had the feeling it was Adora who was spurting nonsense. Or no, not nonsense—just the very propaganda-type truths they had been committing to memory for years. Catra had always spurned them.

She just hadn’t realized Adora believed so deeply.

“No—Adora, but—” But Adora was staring at her as if she’d grown two heads, and as Catra watched, horror dawning, her eyes flicked to her forehead.

She frowned. “Catra, what are you—”

“That’s not important!” All of a sudden, Catra was on her feet, white-hot fury and frustration surging through her. Because this didn’t make sense, no sense at all, and there could be no way that Adora was sitting there, so willfully dumb, when Catra—when Catra—

Well. Catra would just have to show her. 

“Come on!” she snarled, and grabbed Adora by the wrist, yanking her to her feet. “C’mon, if you won’t believe me—like you ever believe me anyways—”

“Catra, stop, you’re hurting—” Adora tried to yank her hand away, but something was spurring Catra on, something deeper than any rage. There was anger, sure, but there was something older than that, a feeling of injustice buried deep in her bones that she had never really felt before.

No, actually. She had felt it before. But she had never felt it about anything besides herself.

“Look at this!” She roared, and pushed Adora towards the village, to the demolished houses. Deep within came the shouts of soldiers, and the cries of what Catra knew had to be children.

Adora had to hear that. How could she not hear that?

Adora, released from Catra’s grip, stepped forward and stared into the ruins, not saying a word. In the weak, fluttering wind, stray strands of her ponytail came loose and danced.

“Adora?” After several moments, unable to stand the silence, Catra came up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You get what I’m talking about, right? You can’t let this continue.”

For a second, Adora didn’t answer. Then she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and turned.

“Why do you care?” she demanded, so suddenly as to take Catra aback. “Why should you care about them? They’re rebels, Catra!”

“Yeah, so?” Catra retorted, but her heart was sinking and she could feel the ground sliding out beneath her. Still, she tried. “Adora, that doesn’t matter! Don’t you get it? The Horde is—the Horde is—”

“Is what, Catra?” Adora took a step back, and gave a slight, disbelieving shake of her head. Hurt flashed in her eyes, though for what, Catra didn’t know. “Is evil? Is that what the princesses told you? Seriously, a day out of the Horde and you—what, defect?”

“No, Adora!” She wasn’t getting it. She really, honestly wasn’t getting it. “Adora, don’t be an idiot! It’s not about the Horde! It’s never been about the Horde! It’s about what they’re doing!”

“You mean subduing a rebel force?” Adora took another step back, and something hardened in her eyes. Behind them, a shell crashed, and she flinched, but didn’t turn. “You know this is a war, right?”

“Yes, but—” Another shell crashed, this time close enough to make them both jump. Somebody screamed, and the fur on the back of Catra’s neck stood on end. “But Adora, you’re killing innocent people! How can you just—ignore that?”

“I’m not!” Adora snapped, and then sucked in a breath and shut her eyes, visibly forcing herself to calm. Catra watched her, and couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of dissonance.

This wasn’t the Adora she knew. And yet, at the same time, it terribly was. Adora had always turned her back to the worst parts of the Horde—when they had been punished, sometimes brutally, she had insisted it be in their best interest. That it was all for the greater good.

For the glory of Lord Hordak, Catra thought bitterly, and suppressed the urge to laugh.

“I’m not ignoring anything.” Adora still had her eyes closed, but when she spoke, her voice was firmer than it was before. “But I’m not an idiot either, Catra. You’ve been taken in by the face the rebels are presenting. That’s what they do. They get under your skin, and then they—”

She broke off, and shook her head. Catra only stared at her, aghast. It took her a moment to find her voice.

“You really think—you really think I’m that stupid?” 

Adora’s eyes flew open and she opened her mouth, but Catra didn’t stop. No way. Anger was building up in her, not the ancestral, righteous rage that had driven her to show Adora the truth, but the good old fashioned kind, the kind that came of an ugly childhood and a home that hated her more often than not. 

“So that’s it, huh?” She stepped closer, jabbing a finger at Adora’s chest. “ _You_ think I’m an idiot! You think I can’t see what the Horde is doing, that I’m too _blinded_ by the rebels to figure things out! Well, guess what, Adora! The only person closing her eyes is you, and it’s because you’re too much of a _coward_ to realize that _every_ single shell you’re shooting is going to murder—”

“SHUT UP!” 

All of a sudden, Catra was falling backwards, shoved by Adora into the churned up dirt of the battlefield. She hit hard, letting out a hiss, and made to jump to her feet again, only for Adora to shove her back down. When Catra looked up, she stepped back, blinking as if she was surprised by her own actions.

“Sorry—” The word tumbled from her lips in surprise as well. Then, her face hardened. “But you’re being a jerk! You don’t even understand—”

“Oh, _I_ don’t understand.” Catra laughed, bitter and hard. Something ugly was growing in her chest, and she hated the feel of it, hated the way it hurt on its way out. “So you’re just going to pretend you’re right?”

Adora’s face, already hardened, went very cold. “I am right, Catra.”

“Sure,” Catra spit back, but inside her chest, something was splintering in two, and it hurt more than anything she’d ever felt. “Fine! Kill innocent people. Prove me right. But I’m not gonna watch you do it. I’m getting the hell out of here.”

With that, she leapt to her feet. Adora didn’t push her down this time, but only watched, hurt and confusion playing across her face.

“Catra, wait—”

But Catra wasn’t listening. How could she? Betrayal burned in her chest, hotter than an ember, and it _hurt_. Adora had always been someone, secretly or not, that Catra had looked up to. Who had protected her when she’d needed it, and she’d watched out for her in return. Sure, she scoffed at Adora’s status as the star cadet, but in other ways she’d admired her determination and goodheartedness, her ability to be kind no matter what.

To follow the rules no matter what. To put the Horde before everything, no matter what. Because wasn’t Adora doing now what Catra had always seen her do, and pretended not to notice? The countless times when Catra had been in trouble, and Adora had done nothing more than admonish her. The punishments Shadow Weaver had dealt out that Adora insisted were only to strengthen them.

Maybe this was proof, after all, that Adora wasn’t the only one seeing what she wanted to see. Maybe Catra had been just as bamboozled. 

“Catra!” A hand caught on her wrist, tugging her back. When Catra turned around, she found familiar blue eyes, familiar enough to raise a lump in her throat.

A moment ago, they’d really felt like a stranger’s.

“Where are you going?” she demanded, and her voice was all hard, half a commander and half a friend. “You can’t just—walk away!”

“I can and I will!” Catra shot back, and shook her wrist away. “And get off of me! You think I’m going to go back to the Horde, just so you can report me to Shadow Weaver?”

Adora fell back, shock etched across her face. “I wouldn’t—you can’t think—”

“Yeah, well you wouldn’t stop her either,” Catra retorted, and started to turn. Only for a hand to catch her shoulder.

“Catra, I’m not going to let you walk away from me!” There was that familiar determination she knew, and it was at once both comforting and painful. Because it was all wrong and misdirected, like Adora was reaching for her when Catra knew she was only trying to pull her back. “I’m not going to lose you to the rebels!”

“I’m not _going_ back to the rebels!” Catra snarled, and wrenched her shoulder away, only for Adora to lunge forward again. “I’m going to—stop!”

Because Adora was reaching for her again, grabbing her like she’d grabbed her so many times in sparring and in the hallways and just as children, roughhousing for fun, but this time there was an edge to it. Like she wasn’t going to let go.

Like she was going to bring Catra back by force.

“Get _off_ me!” Catra shouted, rage bubbling up in her, and without even thinking, she spun around and swiped her hand away.

She realized only a moment later that she hadn’t sheathed her claws. By then, it was too late.

Adora fell back at the force of Catra’s sudden turn, but it wasn’t fast enough to avoid her claws, which, with no hand to push away, hit her jaw and _tore_. They dragged downward only for a second, before Catra, in horror, snatched her hand back, but by then the damage was done. Adora staggered back, one hand clutching her freely-bleeding cheek, and shot Catra a look she was probably going to remember for the rest of her life.

Betrayal, deep as a cut to the bone. Like she was looking at Catra, and didn’t know her at all.

“Adora, I—” she tried to say, but couldn’t get the words out. Sorry hung off her tongue, and never fell. She could only stand frozen in horror, staring at the cuts her own claws had made, which were deeper and messier than any she’d inflicted as a child.

She didn’t need a doctor to know that they would scar.

“Adora—” She stepped closer, only to freeze as Adora reared back.

“Don’t—!” Adora hissed, and then with a grimace of pain, shook her head. “I get it now. I’m such an _idiot!_ You never cared about the Horde. You didn’t even want me to make Force Captain. All you cared about was whether I broke the rules for you, or—or stole food, or—”

“Adora, it was never like that—”

“Shut up!” Adora spun around and straightened, one hand clutched to her still bleeding cheek. “Just—shut up! You want to leave, Catra? Well, fine. I’m done trying to cover for you. Go find your rebel friends, for all I care.”

“Adora—” Hurt and betrayal rose in Catra’s gut, twisting like a knife, but when she stepped forward, Adora only stumbled away from her. Then, before Catra could react, she lunged for the communicator at her belt and yanked it to her face.

“Tank commander Evans? Yeah, this is Force Captain Adora. Commence the final push.”

As Catra stared, horror dawning, there came a short, staticky agreement over the communicator.

“Roger than, Force Captain. Commence final push.”

And then, before Catra could react, or even move, the firing began in earnest.

—————

It was terrible.

That was all Glimmer could think as she rushed a family to safety, only to turn around and help Bow take down a Horde soldier. It was terrible, absolutely horrifying, and damn it, she should have known better! She should never have untied the Horde soldier, and never let her get the drop on them.

She was an idiot. And worse, she was going to be in so much trouble.

“You’ll be safe here,” she reassured a mother and child, both of their gazes wide with terror, then teleported back to the fight. “Bow! Bow, where are you!”

“I’m right here!” Bow cried to her right, and she spun around just in time to watch him send an arrow sailing into a Horde soldier. “Glimmer, there’s too many of them! We have to retreat!”

“If we retreat, Thaymor falls!” Desperately, Glimmer shot a blast of energy at a Horde soldier, who went reeling back. “Bow, we have to defend this place at least until we can get everybody out!”

“We don’t—” another arrow went plunging into the enemy— “have the force!”

“I know, but—” Glimmer began, only to be interrupted by a strange, screeching sound. Not the shattering boom of artillery, or the whistle of a tank shell. Rather, this sounded like the screech of metal on metal, like something being torn apart.

It didn’t make sense. In the awful sounds of war, it was terribly out of place.

“What—” Glimmer turned, as did Bow, as did the Horde soldiers they were fighting. For a moment, everybody only stared, lost in confusion.

That was when a tank went sailing over their heads.

“What the hell!” Bow dove to the ground, but he needn’t have. The tank landed far away, with a crash loud enough to send the landscape rattling. “Glimmer, what—”

“I don’t know, Bow!” Glimmer turned to the spot the thrown tank came from, only to see a mass of Horde soldiers converging onto one spot—to no avail. Whoever was fighting them was doing a better job of both Bow and Glimmer combined, a whirlwind of limbs and armor and—

Armor. Red and gold, flashing dully in the light. Limbs, longer than Glimmer expected, but recognizable all the same. 

Then the soldiers momentarily parted, and she knew exactly who it was.

“Glimmer!” The moment of shock over, the soldiers had now turned back to Bow, who was hurriedly nocking another arrow. “What’s going on out there?”

“It’s—” For a moment, Glimmer didn’t answer. She could only stare, stunned into silence.

“Glimmer?” Bow cried, panicky.

“It’s…” At last, she managed to find her voice.

“Catra?”

—————

For several long seconds, even as the firing increased, Catra could only stare. She couldn’t believe it, that was the problem. Couldn’t stand here, staring at Adora, and see somebody who would destroy an innocent village.

Catra had never dismissed her own ability to ignore cruelty. Hell, it was a survival tactic. Keep your head down, look out for your own lot, and maybe somebody else’s.

But Adora?

_Adora?_

“Adora, you can’t.” After a moment, she found her voice, scrambling forward. “You can’t, there are people here, and—”

“Get off me, Catra!” Adora spun around, shoving her away, then beckoned to a nearby squad. “You don’t get to tell me how to be a Force Captain! It’s my job, not yours!”

“It’s not about that,” Catra growled, but when she lunged forward, Adora only fell back. “It’s never been—”

“Oh, yeah?” The soldiers Adora had called were advancing now, somewhat confused, but listening. “Except for all the times you were angry when I did something right and you didn’t? Just because I worked hard, and you—”

“I don’t want to be Force Captain!” Catra burst out, and in that very moment, knew that it was true. “I don’t want your idiotic job! I want you to realize what the hell you’re doing!”

Adora’s eyes hardened, something cold settling into her face. She straightened, her hand falling away from her jaw, even as blood still trickled down.

“I know what I’m doing, Catra,” she said quietly. “But I think you’re confused.”

And then, before Catra could react, she nodded to the troops surrounding.

“Hey!” Catra shouted, but it was too late. They were on her, tasers and fists swinging. “Adora, what the hell—”

“You’re brainwashed, Catra!” There were tears sparkling in her eyes, and Catra could have laughed for the irony. “They did something to you! I’m—I’m going to bring you back!”

“Adora, you idiot—” Catra huffed out, but she was too busy fighting off her attackers to finish her sentence. “I—ow! OW!”

A taser shot sent her sprawling to the ground, and in a moment, the Horde soldiers were upon her, grabbing at her hands, holding down her legs. Catra struggled, forcing herself into a sitting position, only for a fist to send her sprawling again.

_This is it_ , she thought woozily, hurt and betrayal and defeat washing through her. _This…Adora did this to me. And I can’t win._

It really hurt, realizing that. That her words and her good intentions and her stupid mask hadn’t done a single thing. That the fluke she had staked her life on in the woods was really just that—a fluke. Catra was no more special than she’d ever been.

She was nothing.

A hand pushed her shoulder roughly into the ground, and Catra closed her eyes. What was the point of seeing her own defeat?

_“C’yra.”_

And there was that stupid voice again, taunting her. Couldn’t everything just…stop?

_“C’yra, you must fight back.”_

“Shut up,” Catra mumbled. “Shut up, I don’t want—”

_“Fight back!”_

A hand grabbed her again, hard, and this time, something inside Catra snapped. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed it.

The soldier yelped in surprse. “What the—”

But he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. He didn’t even get a chance to draw back by himself, before Catra shoved him with such force that he went flying.

She blinked in surprise. How had she done that?

With a yell, another soldier lunged for her, but this time, Catra reacted on instinct. She leapt to her feet and dodged, sending him barreling to the side, only to duck as another soldier dove for her.

Fast. They were all so fast, top tier Horde soldiers. How on earth was she getting past them?

“Get her!” Somebody cried, just as a tank turned its turret to face her, but Catra didn’t stop. She only straightened, taller than she’d been, and lunged for the tank.

She didn’t mean to tear apart the turret. She really, honestly didn’t. But the moment she reached the metal, instinct—instinct not her own, instinct she had never felt before—took over, and before she knew what was happening, the turret was in two.

Catra looked up. Then, slowly, she grinned.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she said, and for a moment, really felt it. Felt the adrenaline flowing through her, the strength she had never known before, and _god_ , she reveled in it.

When was the last time she had been strong? When was the last time she had been able to fight back?

“Run!” the soldiers were crying now, and that felt good too. Catra didn’t turn to face them, however. Instead, as soldiers poured out of the hatch of the tank, weapons raised, she wedged her hands underneath the wheels and lifted.

It raised easily, easier than anything she’d ever felt. She balanced it in both hands as soldiers fell to the ground, gasping in shock and horror, then turned and, because she wasn’t sure how else to destroy it, she simply tossed it.

It went sailing past destroyed houses, and slammed right into the middle of a street.

Catra winced.

“Damage control,” she reminded herself, only to whip around as more soldiers came running towards her. It only took seconds to dispatch them, and when another wave came, she dispatched those too, and then it was just more instinct, her mind and body moving as one, moving as nothing she had ever felt before.

It felt _great_.

Soldiers ran at her, and fell back. Tanks approached, and she crushed them. Fighting whirled around her, directed at her, but she was more than a match for all of it.

She was…something else. Something greater than she’d ever been.

And it felt natural.

It took her a while to realize that the artillery fire had faded. That rather than screams and shouts of terror, there came only the screech of metal—at her own hands—and the shouts of retreating soldiers. Rather than the dust of demolished houses, acrid smoke filled the air, the aftermath of destroyed machinery.

All thanks to Catra.

As the last soldiers turned and ran, Catra came to a halt, and stared. Only now was she starting to notice the reality of the battlefield—the wreckage caused in her wake. No more demolished buildings, thankfully, but the field was strewn with the remnants of the Horde’s forces.

Soldiers were running, disappearing into the smoke, and behind her, Catra heard a cough.

She turned, and the movement was like an off switch. All of a sudden, rapid exhaustion swept through her body, sending her knees weak and her head spinning. Catra turned, then stumbled, right into the arms of two vaguely familiar people.

She looked up, squinting in confusion. “You…guys?”

Of course, they had names. She was just too exhausted to put names and faces together. But Bow and Glimmer stared at her, awe and utter shock mingling.

“You just…won a battle,” Bow murmured, his voice low in amazement. “By yourself.”

Catra stared at him dimly, mouth open. It took her a moment to shut it, and shrug. “I…didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but you did it.” With four hands, Bow and Glimmer managed to get her to her knees, and it was only then that Catra realized she was no longer clad in armor, no longer several inches taller than her usual height. She, all of a sudden, felt like herself, and that thought more than anything sent a wave of exhaustion through her.

“You did it!” Glimmer crowed, face all lit up, as Catra knees hit the dirt. “You saved us! You—you went against the Horde!”

“I—what?” Catra’s head snapped up, her eyes widening as the reality of the words hit her. Then she drew back, shaking her head. “No, that’s not what I—I wasn’t trying—”

She wasn’t trying to be a hero. She hadn’t been fighting to save the village, really. She’d been fighting because she’d been scared, and the soldiers had hurt her, and now—and now—

Now she was alone.

Catra looked up, across the empty battlefield, at the smoke and dead tanks, and a wave of panic went through her.

She had caused that. She was—something not herself. She had _transformed_.

What the hell was she?

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she said, and with a wave of residue strength, scrambled to her feet. “I’m not—I’m not a rebel, I wasn’t trying—”

But there was no place for her now in the Horde. Her only friend hated her, and she had just turned on her home. She had no place to go, and no friends left.

“You can come back with us!” Glimmer launched to her feet as well, too-bright hope playing across her expression. “Catra, we can figure out how you transformed, and how—”

“I don’t want that!” Catra snapped, panic getting the best of her. Glimmer’s eyes widened at the words, and once again, Catra felt like an idiot. “I don’t want to be a rebel! I don’t want anything to do with any of this! I just want—”

To find her friend. To make things right, to fix whatever she’d caused. Adora would understand, if she could just explain without getting angry—

“I have to go,” she said, and stumbled as she spun around, the mask still sitting on her head. “I have to—I need to talk to someone—”

“Catra, wait!” Glimmer called, but Catra wasn’t listening. She was already gone.

The battlefield was still in chaos. People were running, both civilians and soldiers, as if they didn’t realize the battle was over. Commanders were trying to organize retreat in the midst of the smoke and ash, and it was near impossible to see.

Catra didn’t know how she’d ever find Adora. So when she did, it was entirely a surprise.

She was only half a field away when Catra stumbled around a tank and saw her, her arms raised as she tried desperately to direct soldiers.

“Retreat! Listen to me, you have to fall back!” she was calling, and for a moment didn’t see Catra at all. Blood had dried on her cheek, though the wound still looked like it needed to be treated. Catra, torn between bravery and cowardice, her eyes caught on the scars she herself had caused, only stood there, half hidden behind the tank, and watched.

Every bit the commander. Every bit the life she’d always wanted to lead. Had Catra ever belonged by her side at all?

She wasn’t sure. But she had to try. So with a heavy breath, she stepped forward, out of the shadows of the tank.

Adora saw her near immediately. Their gazes connected, and for a second, Adora’s eyes widened, a whirlpool of emotions within.

Then they hardened, and without saying a word, she turned.

“Fall back!” she called, her voice stiff and her back to Catra. “Fall back!”

A cold shoulder. Catra stared, something cracking deep inside her chest. Or maybe it had already cracked, and this was just the final cleave of it, her entire ribcage breaking in two.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t breathe. For a long moment, she stared. Then, without saying a word, she turned and ran.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know what you all thought!


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